She Wishes For Your Happiness
by Monochromo
Summary: When his mother dies, she asks for him to fulfill one last wish: to find her first love. Thus, Shouto travels to her hometown to uncover more of his estranged mother's past. He just never expected to fall in love with his target's daughter in the process. (Aged-Up AU)
1. She Wishes For Your Visit

The sky up above was dark, gray, and gloomy—torrential rain. It beat heavily against the roof of the building, like drums announcing a death march.

 _It's fitting_ , he thought to himself.

Hands on his lap, Shouto Todoroki leaned against the hard, wooden wall behind him, intensely concentrated on the harsh pitter patter. It was the only thing he could do to distract himself from the loud wailing off at the right side of the room. Incense wafted into his nostrils, and it took all Shouto's willpower not to crinkle his nose in disgust.

A warm hand firmly gripped his, and he turned his head to the left to see his older sister, Fuyumi, regard him with a reassuring smile. She is his closest sibling and can tell when something is amiss.

Her eyes, red from crying, seemed to say, _Just a little longer, Shouto._

He stiffly nodded his head, wiggling his hand out of hers because he's not a temperamental cry-baby anymore, and stared straight ahead, just like his older brothers, Isamu and Koji.

Shouto knew it was odd that only one of four children was crying at that very moment, probably made them look heartless, considering that it is their mother's funeral wake.

The room was split in half: the right side filled with her relatives, hair as white as freshly fallen snow and eyes as black as a starless sky. The left was only four people: himself, Fuyumi, Isamu, and Koji.

He clenched his fists.

It isn't that he was surprised over the lack of his Father's attendance. Rather, he was frustrated that Enji Todoroki sent his children to deal with a side of their family they knew next to nothing about.

Enji is a selfish man—he liked being in power and hated hearing oppositions to his plans. It's a trait that Shouto is overly familiar with, acquainted with the curves of every wrinkle that mars his father's face when he is displeased, heated exchanges resulting in fresh bruises and adding fuel to the flame of hatred burning in his heart towards that man.

Fuyumi's choked sob reminded him that this was not the place nor time to be angry at a husband who was not present at his wife's service. His resentment died down until there is just pity for the woman who had the dishonor of being his bride.

Finally, the Buddhist priest finished his last mantra, and everyone was free to leave their condolences at the altar.

It was odd, seeing people who are his family-but-not-really- **family** approach the altar filled with incense sticks and a picture frame, delivering parting gifts to a woman long gone. Their hunched backs, tear-streaked cheeks, and shaking hands are peculiar to the youngest Todoroki.

Such display of raw emotion was not allowed under his father's firm guidance.

"Shouto, we're going up," Fuyumi whispered quietly to her eighteen-year-old younger brother. He nodded his head, following the broad backs of his brothers, dressed in the same suffocating black suit he was currently sporting.

Wiping the sweat off his forehead, Shouto wondered why his mother couldn't have died during a cooler season instead of the middle of summer.

Isamu and Koji stopped and bent down to place the bouquet of yellow chrysanthemums with the others. They're steady, wasting no movement, before robotically clasping their hands together to offer one last prayer, one last thought to the woman who gave birth to them all.

This is the first time in a while since we've all been together, Shouto caught himself thinking. He's more occupied thinking about the last time the Todoroki siblings were all present at the estate than sending his final thoughts for the deceased.

Amidst the bed of flowers, he stared at the picture of an unfamiliar woman with soft cheeks, long white hair cascading down her back, rounded chin, and loving gray eyes.

He gulped down the lump in his throat.

She's different there than in his memories, eyes widened in fear, mouth open yelling obscenities, hand reaching out for the kettle of boiling hot water—

"You're Isamu, aren't you?" an elderly woman with a black yukata and gray bun asked his eldest sibling.

Tall, reliable, strong Isamu with white hair styled up to reveal his forehead. His face is chiseled and tall like their father's, not like Fuyumi who took the most after their mother's soft and round features.

He bowed his head towards the elderly woman. "It's been a long time, Grandmother."

Shouto shuddered as he heard the word 'grandmother'. The only memories he has of said term consisted of a woman with gray hair streaked red, cold blue eyes looking down at him as she raised her hand to strike his face for failing to recite his time tables fast enough.

"My, look how tall you've grown," the woman cooed, motioning for Isamu to bend down so she could affectionately rub his head.

It's an action that is completely foreign to Shouto.

"Then, this must be Koji? You have your mother's eyes," their grandmother kindly complimented. Koji pushed his black-rimmed glasses up the bridge of his nose, brushing red bangs out of his face so the woman has a better view.

She turned to Fuyumi who wiped her nose with a handkerchief hurriedly. "And the only daughter, Fuyumi. You look exactly like my daughter when she was your age."

When Shouto's mother had been Fuyumi's age, she was sent off to a loveless marriage from the countryside to the city with his father.

"Then that leaves…" The elderly woman turned to Shouto, eyes softening.

He wanted to crawl and hide away from his grandmother's piercing gaze. It was omniscient, piercing through the walls and barriers he built up, and never before in his life had Shouto felt so **vulnerable**.

Shouto could hear his siblings sucking in air as the frail lady hobbled over next to the youngest Todoroki, hands reaching up to his face. He was amazed that she can reach so high when he's already two heads taller.

Calloused fingers gingerly traced over the terrible burn scar marring the left side of his face.

"Shouto-chan, you have beautiful eyes," she said in a saccharine voice. It made him sick to his stomach, as if he just ate a handful of sweets; it made him feel so full.

He held back from telling her that his mismatched eyes, the right gray like smoke and left blue like murky water, are far from beautiful.

"Mother, leave them be," a tall man who looks strikingly like their mother save for the goatee on his chin demanded. His eyes were bloodshot, and there were dark bags under them. "They're her children, but I refuse to think of them as family."

"Uncle…" he heard Isamu mumble sadly. The bridge that Isamu had hoped to make with his mother's side is impossible.

Shouto did not share the same sentiments as his older sibling: these strangers are no family of his.

"Fubuki, stop that. They are Yukimuras by half of their blood," the old woman rebuked her son. She removed her hand from Shouto's face and returned to his uncle's side.

The teen felt a twinge of disappointment but quickly pushed that thought away.

Fubuki glared daggers at his niece and nephews. "So? Your worthless father couldn't even be damned to attend his own wife's funeral?"

"Fubuki," the elder said in a warning tone. Fubuki shook his head angrily. Not even the gods could stop his venomous assault because there in front of him were four reminders of the countless years of abuse his beloved sister suffered from that man.

"I bet he's with another woman, isn't he? Probably fell for a god damn whore because he sent his spouse to wither away in a psychiatric hospital—"

"Fuyumi, take Shouto outside," Isamu ordered. The poor girl looked to be on the brink of tears. Shouto felt his anger flare towards the man who was supposedly his mother's brother. "Koji and I will handle this."

"Don't cry, Fuyumi," Koji whispered encouragingly. He patted her shoulders comfortingly. Shouto turned his head away from the affectionate display. "Todorokis are strong."

So Shouto found himself sitting on a bench just outside the entrance, listening to the cicada cries that signal the summer season, fanning himself with one hand. The rain fell hard on the beaten ground. Fuyumi kept looking back at the room, watching with troubled eyes as her older brothers suffered from verbal attacks.

His siblings' predicament only fueled his hatred for his father even more.

"You can go back if it bothers you that much," Shouto told her. She'd been patting down her sweat with the sleeves of the rental yukata. The funeral had come unexpectedly for all of them, leaving them with little time to buy their own garments for the event.

"I'll be right back. Stay right here, okay Shouto?" Fuyumi instructed. She took three steps forward before turning back to him, glasses glistening dangerously. "I mean it."

Shouto scoffed at her warnings. He wasn't like her kindergarten students, so he doesn't know why she treats him like one.

Then again, she did take on the role of his mother at a rather young age.

Reflecting on his relationship (or lack-of) with his mother, he found that he can't recall much. Everyone in the Todoroki household—from his father to his siblings to their servants—avoided speaking about the touchy subject.

His hand unconsciously covered his left eye.

With good reason, he thought bitterly, huffing as boredom quickly overtook him. Luckily, his siblings returned just when he considered exploring the vicinity. He eyed the white envelope in Isamu's hands cautiously.

"This is for you," the oldest Todoroki announced, handing the mail over to Shouto's uncertain hands. He looked at his youngest sibling with pitiful eyes. Shouto hated that look. "Grandmother insisted for you to have it."

"You don't have to read it, if you don't want to," Koji hurriedly said, anxiously pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose. It is a nervous habit of his. "But, Uncle Fubuki looked like he was ready to kill Isamu when he took it from Grandmother. Guess what's inside is important, huh?"

Now, Shouto was motivated to read the letter more than ever.

Said letter is in his hands right now, his heterochromatic eyes dutifully scanning the contents once again for the umpteenth time before setting it on the table in front of him.

His mother's funeral was three days ago.

The train he is riding drives over a bump, and his hand shoots out to catch the piece of paper fluttering down. With a sigh, Shouto takes out his cell-phone to read over some messages.

 **From: Fuyumi-Nee**  
 **To: Me**

 **Shouto-chan! Hope you made it to the train station safely (*´▽`*)**  
 **Remember, Grandma's address is written in back of the envelope!**  
 **Safe travels, and can't wait to see you again in a month (ಥ﹏ಥ)**

 **P.S. Please bring home some of Grandma's daifuku for me! (* '▽')_旦~~**

He scoffs at the overly cute way his older sister types. Given her age and occupation, many wouldn't expect it from a teacher of all people, but the Fuyumi he knows acts like an over-sized child with a sweet tooth.

Thus, it came as a surprise for them all when she announced that she received her teaching license. He recalls his father's anger when she didn't follow business management like he intended for her to and frowns when he catches himself thinking about the disagreeable man.

His father likes control, especially when it came to four of his most precious pawns.

Shouto doesn't want to dwell on unpleasant thoughts, so he scrolls down his message log. The next text is from Isamu.

 **From: Isamu-Nii  
To: Me**

 **Shouto, this is Isamu.** (Shouto snorts because he can tell from the phone number, but Isamu is technologically-impaired.)  
 **Father is still upset over your decision to visit Mother's hometown.**  
 **However, I shall take responsibility for it since I played a role.**  
 **Make sure to focus on your studies when you return home.**

Though the youngest of the four siblings, his father places the brunt of his expectations on Shouto's shoulders.

Isamu had been the picturesque heir of the Todoroki company and its assets. However, he jeopardized everything when it was revealed that he was getting married to his high school sweetheart, breaking off a prior engagement to one of his father's business partner's daughter.

The entire affair had been made public. Thus, Isamu was removed from his position as the Todoroki heir and placed as a member of the committee board so the company could avoid negative press.

On the other hand, Koji's body is weak, and he is often hospitalized as a result. They had attributed it to a genetic condition that ran in their mother's side of the family. It was probably the same condition that claimed her life.

Plus, his older brother seemed much more interested in computers than handling people, a fact he abashedly admitted to Shouto as he apologized for failing to be a 'good older brother'.

Whatever that meant.

Fuyumi had always been deemed too kind to run their father's company, though there were some expectations for her to be married off to secure an alliance with one of their father's rivals. However, their father had a soft spot for his only daughter, hardly expressing his anger save for when she revealed her desire to be a teacher.

That was the one time she had ever blatantly refused their father's wishes, and Shouto's respect for his sister only grew after her decision.

Now, their father's attention is focused on Shouto to be flawless.

His education was carefully fine-tuned to produce the best mind to run the Todoroki company—a mind that his father approved of. They hired the best at-home tutors to prevent him from making the same crime his oldest brother committed.

Shouto's playgrounds were the dull hallways of the company's offices, his playmates adults dressed in lavish suits, his toys stacks of books about management theory and stock prediction.

Now, at 18, he had become his father's perfect puppet.

Alas, Shouto always did have a spirit of rebellion, so it was with great satisfaction that he jumped at the chance to escape the house, even if it was just for a bit. It is exhilarating to be doing things that his father blatantly disapproved and experience the things his father prevented him from experiencing.

He stares outside the window, watching as the blur of gray buildings and street signs are replaced by blades of grass and the color of countryside crops. With a small smile, he observes the shapes of big, fluffy white clouds against the sky-blue background.

Never in his entire life has he been outside the city's boundaries save for the business trips he accompanied his father on, and even then he was more familiar with the hotel and conference rooms than the cities they visited.

Shouto stares at the piece of paper laid flat on the table before him, edges crinkled and frayed from being held onto too tight, too often. He begins to read it inside his head.

 _To my youngest son, Shouto,_

 _I'm sorry._

This line has been crossed out and re-written a total of seven times, each time growing briefer.

 _I don't think there are enough words in existence to properly apologize for what I've done to you. I'm not fit to be your mother_.

Shouto believes that the fault should not entirely be hers to claim because he's sure that his father had pushed her to the brink of insanity. The only thing he remembers about his parents' marriage is hushed yelling behind closed doors. None of their family portraits hung at the front of their estate for display have both smiling.

 _I hope that your memories of me extend far beyond that of the incident. I know I seem like a monster to you for what I've done, but I love you, Isamu, Koji, and Fuyumi with all my heart._

A part of him does consider the written words to be true. Although he only retains that one singular memory vividly, of a crazed stranger throwing burning hot water at his face, sometimes when he sleeps at night, he recalls the ghost of motherly touches that cradle his head, kiss his cheeks, and wrap around his body.

 _The doctors tell me I don't have much time to live, reprimanding me for refusing to take medication._

 _What good would it have done? I'm stuck in a psychiatric ward with no chance of escape. So, forgive me for being unable to meet with you in person and talking face-to-face. It's been years since I've seen any of you._

Regret doesn't even begin to cover Shouto's feelings as he reads this part of his mother's farewell letter to him. Given her circumstances, he could understand why she thought dying was the only escape. Maybe if he was a bit stronger, a bit more rebellious, he could have saved her from the cage his father built.

What his mother did to him was cruel, but his father's response was by far crueler.

 _I hardly got to know you. It's painful to hear about your children's growth from a stranger's mouth instead of watching it with your own eyes. I wish I was there by your side._

He found himself wishing the same thing.

 _You hardly got to know me as well. I'm sure your father has silenced everyone from mentioning my name._

 _But, I have one request for you. I'll understand if you don't want to complete it._

His mother was a fool to think he would turn it down.

 _Shouto, please go to my hometown to learn more about me. The 'me' there is the true side of your mother. I was happier back then, surrounded by people and places I loved. I'm sure you'll grow to love it, too._

 _And above all else…_

Shouto grips the edges of the paper as he reads the next line.

 _Find Nobuyuki Yaoyorozu._

 _Love,_  
 _Setsumi Yukimura_

Shouto has read the letter over a million times. And each time, the burden in his heart grows heavier.

It is obviously a man that his mother requested for him to search. And perhaps, it is because of this man that his parent's marriage was loveless.

This is the mystery that Shouto Todoroki is determined to uncover this summer. He had read novels with premises like it. Granted, he could be overthinking things, but this was a sense of adventure that he lacked in his sheltered life.

"Arriving: Kannami," the P.A. announces. Shouto perks up because this is his stop. He takes a deep breath and gathers all his belongings. His expensive sneakers step onto the worn arrival platform, and Shouto exhales softly.

He takes a step forward, hesitant at first before planting his foot firmly on the ground, and begins trudging towards his grandmother's house. He does not look back.

* * *

 _Author's Notes:_

 _The FF account is unbearably bare (ehe). Though I like AO3 formatting a hecka lot more, there's not enough Todomomo fanfics going around ;;;; So er yeah it's just x-posted lmao it's lit fam (ifuckingloveCamie)_


	2. She Wishes For Your Freedom

**_He is his father's child through and through. That's an inescapable fact he's resigned himself to._**

* * *

When he arrives in front of a quaint, Minka-styled white house with a dark grey roof, he's vaguely reminded of a rumor he once heard circulating around the household.

Apparently, the Todoroki estate was supposed to be a western-style mansion, but his father changed it to a Japanese design upon his mother's request last minute. The architect did well to imitate his mother's childhood house because it looks scarily similar to the Todoroki abode, save for its smaller size and the vegetable patch at the front.

Shouto feels just a little irate by the time he knocks on the door, his shirt clinging to the sweat on his back. He had miscalculated, for his grandmother's dwelling is a thirty-minute walk from the train station, and he had to lug around his suitcase whilst trying to find the Yukimura residence. This is probably the most he had to move around by foot since birth.

The door opens, and his grandmother greets him with an amiable smile. It untangles the knot of dread in his stomach for coming practically unannounced.

"Shouto," she warmly addresses. The older woman has her arms open for a hug, but the act is so outlandish to the white-and-red haired boy that he simply stares. Slowly, she lowers them, but the smile is still intact.

"I'm happy you could make it."

"Thank you for your hospitality…" he trails off, trying to decide how he should address the elder, "…Grandmother."

She furrows her eyebrows at name he's chosen. For a brief second, Shouto replays his greeting in his head, wondering where he offended the older woman.

"Why don't you call me Baba, Shouto?" the lady offers. His face must show reluctance for she adds, "Isamu used to call me that when your mother and he visited."

"Isamu came here before?" Shouto asks with a frown. As far as he knows, contact with the Yukimuras is prohibited. It's just one of the many restrictive rules his father places on his offspring.

Baba waves her hands dismissively. "It was a long, long time ago. But come in. You must be burning."

Shouto is thankful for the invitation but finds that the house isn't all that much cooler than outside. He watches with mild curiosity as the elderly woman takes out a small fan and plugs the cord in.

She catches him staring.

"You must be used to air conditioning, but we don't have that luxury here," Baba teases. She laughs at her own joke, and Shouto forces himself to smile for her sake. "Go ahead and get changed. Be comfortable!"

 _Adapt_ , his father's words echo in his mind. Shouto is reminded of oppressive, uncomfortable parties where he stands by the large man. _It's survival of fittest out here, Shouto. Trust no one, and lift your head up. All eyes are on you tonight._

Eyes are on him, and he realizes that unlike the judgmental stares he is so used to, dark gray irises watch his every move with motherly concern. It makes his skin prickle with an indescribable feeling.

"Your room will be Setsumi's. It's the one down the hallway on the right, and the bathroom is right across," Baba instructs gently. She pats his arms with hands that are half the size of his. "This is your house for however long you stay."

Shouto nods, oddly feeling warm. It's not uncomfortable or annoying like the heat outside; rather, it's a pleasant sensation bubbling inside. He drags his luggage into his temporary lodging and takes a moment to observe his mother's former room.

It is hardly the size of his closet back at home, but it feels homely—safe. There's a futon laid out on the ground, an old cabinet off to the side next to a full body-length mirror, a desk across the dresser, and a ceiling fan.

He speculates what kind of girl grew up in the modest chamber.

His stuffy clothes displease him, so he grabs a pair of khakis and a polo shirt to change into. He examines his attire using the convenient mirror in the room. Fuyumi teases him about dressing like a typical rich boy, but he doesn't pay much mind to her jests. He just wears whatever his servants prepare for him.

Shouto glares at the ugly blemish surrounding his blue eye. It causes a lot of staring from strangers. Their reactions are a mix of invasive inquiries, spurious sympathy, and on rare occasion, genuine pity, causing unnecessary unease for both parties.

After debating for one more moment, he puts on the eyepatch he wears when he goes outside to stop curious looks. Oddly enough, however, girls around his age are undeterred and keep staring despite his scar not being visible.

When he steps out into the living room, his grandmother looks up from washing the crops in a plastic basin, placed smack-dab in the middle of the tatami mat. Scanning Shouto up and down, he hears her click her tongue critically.

Apparently, Baba does not approve of his attire.

"You're going to wear that outside?" the woman grills with an unreadable expression. Shouto takes one look at what he's wearing before meeting her eyes and nodding his head.

He doesn't understand why she sighs in a way like he's failed her tremendously. Shouto Todoroki is not used to facing disappointment.

"…You can keep the shorts, but borrow one of your uncle's shirts. I'm not going to have my grandson get made fun of by the neighborhood kids."

He exchanges his dark blue polo with a simple white T-shirt. Overall, Shouto does not particularly care much for his appearance, but he does admit that it's more comfortable. Maybe he'll ask the maids to buy him a couple when he returns home.

"Better," Baba compliments when he steps out. "So, what are your plans?"

Plans? Right… **plans**. He came into this operation blind.

"I don't know," Shouto answers honestly. His grandmother laughs at the sincerity behind his voice. For a child raised strictly by Enji, he is awfully innocent.

"Since you're not busy, how about you take these to the neighbors?" Baba suggests. She thrusts the basket of strawberries and cucumbers into his hands. "Their names are the Midoriyas. It's just the mom and son home right now."

He doesn't see a reason to refuse, so he's about to head outside when Fubuki comes from the front. Shouto freezes at the sight of his uncle, a rake propped up against the older man's shoulder and a straw hat on his head. There's unmistakable tension between them.

"Tch, don't block the entrance kid," Fubuki grumbles, kicking off his muddied boots to the side. Shouto merely stares at him with a blank look. Baba clicks her tongue at Fubuki's actions.

"Do it properly, Fubuki."

"Yeah, yeah," the man drawls out. He glances at the basket his nephew is holding. "Make sure not to let them get exposed to the heat for too long."

Shouto blinks as his uncle drapes a towel over the fruits, watching silently as the man heads inside to grab a cold bottle of water and get chastised by Baba.

He tries not to think too much about what just occurred. If he tries to analyze his uncle's intent and demeanor, Shouto will undoubtedly just grow unreasonably frustrated. So, he shuffles on some sandals and steps outside to accomplish the task given to him.

Although his grandma says they're next door neighbors, there's a field of rice paddies that separate the two properties. It amazes Shouto because the only time he's seen them is at the front of rice packets. He's not sure what to do when he's greeted by a picketed fence. Was it alright for him to open it and head straight to the door, or was that considered rude?

"Do you need something?" a meek voice asks him. Shouto turns to see a small, broccoli-haired boy regard him with bright green eyes. Shockingly, he doesn't consider the new boy a threat.

"My grandmother said to bring these to the Midoriyas," the half-half boy explains. Upon hearing the name 'Midoriya', the green-haired teen perks up.

"That's me! Er, well, I'm one of them anyways," the boy identifies, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly. He extends a hand out towards Shouto. "My name is Izuku Midoriya."

Shouto scrutinizes the appendage with a scrunched face. Izuku tilts his head at the odd reaction.

"Um, you're supposed to shake my hand then tell me your name," Izuku advices Shouto, just in case the boy isn't aware of the custom.

"I…don't think I should," Shouto murmurs softly. The other boy is confused by his refusal, so Shouto clarifies, "People call me the hand-crusher."

It wasn't his intention to amuse his new acquaintance, but Izuku is laughing until he's wheezing for air. There are tears in the corner of the boy's eyes. Today, Shouto discovers his talent for straight-man comedy.

"Okay, let's skip the handshake," Izuku offers. The white-and-red-haired teen thinks the boy to be oddly considerate and accommodating, much different from the people he meets on a day-to-day basis. "I would still like to know your name though."

"Shouto Todo—" He bites his lip before ultimately deciding to say, "Yukimura. Shouto Yukimura."

Izuku doesn't comment on the weird pause, instead just flashing his set of pearly whites at the other male. Shouto thinks it's blinding. "Nice to meet you! I didn't think that Old Man Fubuki had a son—"

"He doesn't," Shouto quickly corrects. Just the thought of the capricious man as his father makes him shudder. "I'm his nephew. His sister is my mother."

It's weird to hear those words coming out of his own mouth.

"Oh!" Izuku gasps. When he's met by Shouto's questioning gaze, he scratches the side of his cheek. "Well, there's always this rumor that Grandma Yukimura had a daughter who ran off to the big city. Escape the sleepy town, you know? I mean, I can't really blame her, but this town has its charms too. O-Oh, but I'm sure she really liked the city because she hardly visited—"

By now, Shouto is ignoring Izuku's mumbling in favor of checking on the fruits in his hands. Izuku shows no sign of stopping, so he interjects, "I think we should take these inside."

At first, confusion graces Izuku's face until Shouto points to the basket in his arms. Next, the teen's expression contorts to understanding, then distress, and settling on a combination of shyness and shame. Shouto is fascinated by how easily read Izuku's emotions were.

"Right! Sorry, I can get a little caught up in my thoughts," Izuku apologizes. His eyes are a little downcast as he says so.

It causes the aloof boy to reminisce about a similar situation he had been in years prior. When he was young, Shouto craved attention from his busy father. His efforts to be noticed were only met with angry scoldings, so eventually he stopped trying to gain his father's affection. It is worthless, anyways.

Shirking away from his train of thought, Shouto merely shrugs his shoulders. "It's fine. My uncle told me not to let these things in the heat for too long."

"Oh!" the boy gasps. "It's not because I'm annoying or a b-bother?" When Shouto firmly shakes his head, Izuku brightens up considerably. "That's good! Let's head inside."

Shouto is led past the white picket fence and into the humble house. It's smaller than his grandmother's, but it has a welcoming charm. Inside, he sees the form of a plump woman with green hair tied to a bun.

"You're back already, Izuku?" the woman asks from the kitchen. She steps into the entrance hall with a ladle in hand and gasps at the sight of a new boy inside her house. "Did you make another friend?"

Shouto and Izuku turn to each other. They have a small, wordless conversation with their eyes.

 _ **Are** you my friend?_ Izuku asks, a shy blush on his face.

The white-and-red-haired boy considers it for a while before nodding his head.

He isn't accustomed to what it meant to have a friend, but he doesn't dislike being in the green-haired teen's presence. Shouto factors this in to his calculations. Therefore, according to all the reference material he's read beforehand, he comes to the conclusion that they are friends.

Izuku beams likes he's just won the lottery.

"Yeah, he's Grandma Yukimura's grandson!" Izuku introduces for him. Shouto is grateful for the boy's intuition. "His name is Shouto."

"Hmm, I see," Midoriya's mother hums. She gives Shouto a friendly smile. The boy now understands that the toothy grin runs in the family. "Welcome to our house, Shouto. My name is Inko Midoriya, and I'm Izuku's mom."

Shouto just bows his head, because at times like these, he doesn't know what's proper protocol, but a bow is a universal sign of respect or so he'd like to believe.

"He brought over some crops from the Yukimura's farm, Mom," Izuku announces. He lifts the load out of Shouto's arm, heading towards the kitchen with the woman. The stoic teen reluctantly follows. "Strawberries and cucumbers!"

"Haha, of course. We'll have to make some strawberry daifuku then," Inko declares. Her son enthusiastically nods his head in agreement. The Midoriyas are chatting with one another, falling into each other's paces. Shouto looks at the harmony in front of him, a small tug pulling at his heart.

He watches as Izuku carries the heavier kitchen equipment for his mother. He watches as Inko lovingly wipes a dirt mark off Izuku's face, mother and child laughing at the latter's clumsiness. He watches the affection oozing between the two, and it makes his insides twist like he has indigestion or something.

Shouto looks down at his feet, tracing the lines of the wooden flooring with his big toe to occupy himself.

"By the way, Yukimura-san, what are your plans for later?" Izuku innocently inquires. The name sounds jarring in his ear.

"Call me Shouto."

"Shouto…-san?"

"Just Shouto is fine."

"…Shouto-san."

There's a standoff that happens between the two, neither backing down. Izuku is oddly stubborn about maintaining formalities. Inko laughs at their silliness.

"How about you take him around town with Tenya?" Midoriya's mother proposes. The two boys blink out of their staring match, and Izuku nods his head in agreement.

"I'm okay with it if you are, Shouto-san," the green-haired boy tells him. The newcomer to town ponders over the proposal. If he's going to be staying here for a while, it'll be beneficial to be familiar with the general area.

He graciously accepts the offer.

As he and Izuku head out down the road out of the residential area, the latter is filling the space between them with conversation. Shouto is impressed by how comfortable Izuku makes him. He doesn't feel like he has to be careful with his words around the similar-aged boy.

"Iida-kun is one of my classmates. Actually, he's the class president in my school, and his personality really fits the role," Izuku describes, chuckling as he remembers the fiasco behind choosing the committee board members.

"What's that?" Shouto asks, completely serious. Izuku bats his eyelids, taken aback by the sudden question.

"Uh, does your school not have one?" Izuku wonders. Shouto purses his lips together. His 'school' only had one student, so by default, he would be considered the 'class president'. Still, the circumstances regarding his home-schooling is too long and difficult to explain, so he simply shakes his head. "Well, he organizes the activities and events for the class. He also talks to the teachers if problems arise, which uh…happens quite often."

Namely because of one certain Katsuki Bakugou, but Izuku doesn't slander any names. His mother raised him too well.

"It sounds like a lot of work," Shouto comments. Izuku can't say he disagrees.

"I guess, but Iida-kun does a really good job," Izuku exclaims. His begins to gesticulate with his hands. "But he can be a bit—"

Izuku is interrupted by the sound of sneakers hitting the ground, as if a stampede is headed their way. Shouto's eyes widen at the cloud of dust advancing towards the duo. It just so happens that the cause of said dust is a blue-haired, bespectacled boy their age.

"Midoriya! You are five minutes late!" the teen accuses. He stops in front of the two guys, panting slightly. He shoves his watch in-front of the green-haired boy's face. "You said to meet at precisely 3:00. It is now 3:05!"

"—eccentric," Izuku finishes, laughing nervously as his friend is going off on a rant about being punctual. Shouto is simply amazed at the speed the boy chastises his neighbor. "Iida-kun! This is Shouto Yukimura."

Iida ends his sermon to eye Shouto from head to toe, tipping his glasses up his nose bridge. Immediately, he sticks his hand out, and Shouto wonders how many he'll have to decline today. "Greetings! My name is Tenya Iida, and I am a classmate of Midoriya's. Pleased to make your acquaintance, Yukimura-san."

"He doesn't do handshakes. They call him 'hand-crusher'," Izuku explains. Tenya blinks, lowering his hand down before raising it back up to his mouth to cover his laugh behind a fake cough. "And he prefers being called Shouto-san."

"Shouto," the boy in question corrects.

Tenya and Izuku exchange looks before saying in unison, "Shouto-san."

The named teen heaves a heavy sigh.

"I see. You were late not because you had forgotten the time, but because of your altruism," Tenya mutters to himself. He salutes Izuku who jumps at the unexpected display of admiration. "As expected of you, Midoriya. You never fail to impress me!"

"I-I-I-Iida-kun, that's enough!" Izuku embarrassedly whispers to his friend. Shouto finds their antics amusing, the corners of his lips twitching up to a small smile unknowingly. Izuku gasps when he sees it. "Shouto-san, you're smiling."

Now that it's brought to his attention, it's gone. Shouto's eyes slightly widen, touching his lips in astonishment. "I was."

They're interrupted by Tenya bringing one of his fists into the palm of the other hand. "Midoriya-san, Shouto-san, let us not lose sight of our goal, for today is the only day that the Sato Bakery has melon pan!"

"Melon…pan?" Shouto repeats slowly. The sweet delicacy is unknown to him.

"Hm, I thought the city would have something like that," Izuku mutters to himself. He shrugs his shoulders. "Melon pan is a type of sweet bread. All the kids in town love it, so I guess you can say we all compete for it. Oh, but afterwards we can check out the rest of the area!"

"I see," Shouto says. The longer he stays around Izuku, the more he feels like he's learning about the world in ways that a simple textbook can't teach. It's strangely exhilarating.

"Let us make haste," Tenya loudly proclaims, leading the way to the famed dessert shop. Izuku and Shouto struggle to keep up with the dutiful boy.

Unfortunately for the trio, by the time they arrive, the stock is long gone.

"Sorry. You guys came a little too late," Rikido Sato, Tenya's and Izuku's classmate at school, informs them. Tenya falls to the floor dramatically, pounding the ground with his fist.

"Curses! I was naïve to think that there would be any left at this time," Tenya wails.

Shouto is exasperated; how could someone this emotional be a good leader? Everything Tenya represents goes against every principle his father has beaten into Shouto's core.

"We'll get some next week," Izuku reassures his friend. Tenya wipes the small tear that has gathered at the corner of his right eye, nodding his head in agreement.

"I will hold you to that, Midoriya!"

They will not fail next time.

"Ha! Serves you fucking losers right," a rough voice grouches from behind. Shouto turns to see a group of four males. The one who just insulted his two new acquaintances is a blonde boy with crimson eyes. "Oi, you added another one to your shitty band of bastards?"

Shouto stares at the foul-mouthed boy in amazement. Never before in his life has he ever heard that many curses coming out of someone's mouth in succession.

His calm expression only seems to anger the boy more. "OI! I WAS TALKING TO YOU—"

"Chill out, Bakugou. He looks new," a red-haired boy intervenes. He places a hand on the blonde's shoulders who only shakes it off angrily. The teen isn't offended; he's used to Bakugou's temper tantrums. "Hey new guy. Ignoring Bakugou like that's pretty manly, but try not to do it too often unless you have a death wish. The name's Eijirou Kirishima, by the way!"

"This guy's impressive though, that's for sure," the black-haired one says. He grins at the unshakable teen. "I'm Hanta Sero. You new to town?"

Shouto simply nods his head at the question, overwhelmed by the sudden introduction of new faces. He's having troubles keeping up.

"Ooooh, he looks like a city boy," the other blonde one remarks. There's a lightning bolt black streak in his hair. "My name's Denki Kaminari. We all go to Yuuei like your two buddies there. In fact, we're classmates."

Said classmates are still trying to accept the reality of living through the week without a taste of the famed melon pan bread.

"Hey, Bakugou, introduce yourself," Eijirou prods the seething boy.

The hothead crosses his arms, glaring at Shouto, but says, "Katsuki Bakugou. Don't you dare forget it, bastard."

"Bakugou! Please refrain from using such foul-language! As your class president—" Tenya is already on the blonde's case, and before long, there's a screaming match between them.

"Kirishima! Sero! Kaminari!" Izuku exclaims, snapping out of his stupor. He allows a small sigh to escape as he watches his childhood friend get into another scuffle with the glasses-wearing teen. "Kacchan's at it again…"

"SHUT UP, FUCKING NERD!" Katsuki yells out in the middle of his argument with Tenya. They're showing no signs of stopping. Izuku winces at his words, something that does not go unnoticed by Shouto.

"He's loud," he observes. Izuku can only laugh weakly in response.

"You never told us your name, by the way," Hanta reminds. Shouto glances at all of them, one by one, before relaxing his shoulders.

"Shouto Yukimura," he says smoothly. It doesn't sound as awkward as it initially did. "Call me Shouto."

"Cool, Shouto," Denki repeats with a grin. He has his hands behind his head. "Why're you here anyways? You just move in or something?"

No, he was here to find his mother's first lover to put his mind at ease and simultaneously piss his father off. Shouto knows how ridiculous it sounds, so he dances around the question.

"Vacation," is the excuse Shouto settles with. Hanta raises an eyebrow at the simple answer.

"You came to Kannami of all places?" the black-haired boy questions. He waves his arm around, gesturing at all the small, empty shops around them. "Bro, there's nothing here."

"Maybe he's doing some soul-searching," Eijirou offers. He gives Shouto an encouraging thumbs-up. "He's living with that grumpy old man Fubuki, so that's already super manly."

Hearing others badmouth his uncle puts him in a lighter mood. He decides that the new group of males, minus Katsuki, aren't all too bad.

"Ah, that's right. We should probably get going before it gets dark," Izuku points out. The weather is growing cooler, and there's sparse public lighting. "Do you guys wanna come too?"

"OI! We ain't hanging around you fuckers any longer," Katsuki cuts in, ignoring Tenya's admonishment. Eijirou gives Izuku an apologetic tap on his shoulder.

"Sorry Midoriya, we already promised to head over to Denki's place to play the newest All Might Gaiden," the red-head confesses. Izuku's eyes light up upon mention of the acclaimed video game series.

"No way! That's already out?"

"Not yet. But my dad got the shipment early," Denki clarifies, an impish grin on his face. His family owns the only electronics store in town. Katsuki crosses his arms together, tapping his foot impatiently against the ground.

"We don't have all day, ya slow shitters."

"Haha, Bakugou's the most excited about this," Hanta whispers jokingly to Izuku. Unfortunately for him, Katsuki's ears are sharp.

"SHUT YOUR MOUTH, TAPE, BEFORE I KICK YOUR ASS—" There's a small pause so Katsuki can take a breath of air, "—IN ALL MIGHT GAIDEN!"

'Tape' is the nickname Katsuki created for Hanta after the kid managed to cover their classroom in scotch tape during art when they were in their first year of high school. No one knew how Hanta did it, not even the culprit himself.

"Shit…!"

"Sero! Don't be influenced by Bakugou!" Tenya reprimands. Slowly, Shouto can feel his energy being drained by the constant shouting. Luckily for him, Izuku's observant nature notices his growing lethargy, so the boy makes another move to part with Katsuki's group.

"Iida-kun, let's start showing Shouto-san around," Izuku advocates. He exchanges a look with Katsuki who immediately picks up on the cue.

"Tch. Let's go," the blonde boy commands. Eijirou, Hanta, and Denki all cheerfully wave goodbye to Tenya, Shouto, and Izuku before following after their de-factor leader whose shoulders are slouched.

Shouto watches them leave with fascination. For a loud group of misfits, Katsuki seems fond of them. He recalls a term he once came across while reading some of the manga in Koji's room.

'Tsundere' is the perfect word to describe the volatile ring-leader.

He's pulled along by Izuku and Tenya who introduce him to every building, every establishment, every nook and cranny. They describe each one in detail with a silly story, and Shouto once again finds himself smiling occasionally at the situations the teens recounts.

They stop by a convenience store to grab some ice-cream to cool down. Each one grabs a different flavor: Tenya's is melon, Izuku's vanilla, and upon both of their suggestion, Shouto decides on strawberry.

"I've never had this before," Shouto confesses to his companions. He struggles not to let the ice cream dribble onto his hands, though he's not successful because they're already sticky. Tenya and Izuku nearly choke at the admission.

"You've **never** had ice cream before?" Tenya repeats incredulously. Sure, he knows full well that sweets are bad for teeth and filled the body with no nutritional value, but even he allows himself to succumb to the treat once in a while.

Shouto looks up at the sky for a bit, thinking, before shaking his head no. His father wouldn't allow him anywhere near a convenience store, much less indulge in sweets.

 _Those are for peasants_ , is the man's reasoning.

Izuku and Tenya exchange befuddled glances.

"M-Maybe he's never had a chance?" Izuku tries to reason. For someone to go 18 years without ice cream is practically unheard of. "Are your parents strict, Shouto-san?"

He thinks of Enji, whose only words for his youngest son are admonitions and never praises. Curfews, house rules, restrictions—they shackled Shouto, bound his feet from stepping out of his father's set boundaries, clipped his wings to stop him from flying out the cage.

Wordlessly, he nods his head, relishing the artificial taste of strawberry even more.

"Young Midoriya, Young Iida, good afternoon," a pale, sickly-looking blonde-haired man greets. Both Tenya and Izuku straighten up at his sudden appearance.

"Y-Yagi-sensei!" they yelp, eyes sparkling at the sight of him. Shouto stares at the adult disinterestedly.

"Oh? You've added a new companion to your merry band?" the man asks. Izuku nods his head excitedly.

"Yes, this is Shouto Yukimura!" Izuku informs the adult. Suddenly, he gasps, turning to Shouto with an apologetic look. "Er, sorry. I've been introducing you to everyone."

"It's fine," Shouto dismisses nonchalantly. "I prefer that."

Izuku grins up at him, relieved that his behavior didn't drive the city boy away. The blonde man watches their exchange fondly.

"Good for you, Young Midoriya," he praises. Izuku blushes at the commendation. The adult extends a hand for Shouto to take. "My name is Toshinori Yagi. I'm a teacher at Yuuei High School."

"Ah, he doesn't do handshakes," Izuku informs Toshinori. To his credit, the man's smile doesn't disappear, but Shouto can tell he's embarrassed by the way his cheeks flush pink. Izuku turns to Shouto eagerly. "By the way, have you heard of All Might?"

Somewhere deep in the back of his mind, he remembers secretly watching the super hero TV series using his sister's tablet when he was a small boy. When he had requested for an All Might-themed party for his sixth birthday, his father furiously declined. Nobody ate dinner that night.

"He's the super hero, right?"

"Not just any super hero," Izuku begins, a glint in his eyes. "He was the number one hero topping the charts all throughout the run time of his show, _My Hero Academia_. The show debuted in 1995, and when they aired the 20th episode special, the studio responsible announced that the show was cancelled. I was heartbroken. All the merchandise, the fan goods—"

"Midoriya is a huge fan," Tenya blandly declares. Shouto watches the green-haired boy, hand under his chin mumbling incoherently, and thinks that is the understatement of the year. "Yagi-sensei played All Might."

"That's all in the past, though," Toshinori says dismissively, though there's a tender smile on his face. Shouto tries to imagine the thin man as the buff superhero and finds himself incapable of doing so. It does not go unnoticed by the blonde. "That was back in my prime. Now, I'm just an ordinary school teacher."

"That's not true!" Izuku protests loudly. The volume of his voice has Shouto reeling backwards. "You saved this town from being turned to a conglomerate."

This is news to the newcomer.

"Well, I guess it's just part of my nature to be nosy," Toshinori abashedly claims. Tenya quickly turns to Shouto, pushing his glasses up his nose bridge.

"Allow me to explain, Shouto-san. Years ago, the Todoroki company wanted to buy out all the businesses in the city for some odd reason. Without Yagi-san's interference, perhaps the Kannami you see today would have been completely different."

If there is one thing he could commend his father on, it is the amount of work Enji put in for the sake of his pettiness. He couldn't believe his father would try to change an entire town simply because of his dislike for Shouto's mother.

"All Might and Yagi-sensei are so cool," Izuku exclaims, a bright sparkle in his green eyes. It's endearing, Shouto admits. "I wish I could be a hero like you, but I'm… Well…"

The boy slowly lowers his head dejectedly. Toshinori claps Izuku's shoulders loudly.

"Say no more, my boy! Remember, even you can be a hero. Those who are always aiming for the top and those who aren't; that slight difference in attitudes will have a big impact once you go out into society."

Izuku's resolve is renewed. "R-Right!"

"Now say it with me," Toshinori instructs. He gestures for Tenya and Shouto to do the same. "Plus Ultra!"

"Plus Ultra!" Tenya and Izuku shout confidently. All three turn their heads towards Shouto expectantly, in such a way that the teen can't **not** do it now.

"…Plus Ultra."

Toshinori coughs into his hand to hide his chuckle over the ridiculous display. "Now, if you three will excuse this old man, I have to head back to Aizawa-sensei's house for the annual—erm, summer-vacation teacher meeting." The three boys stare disbelievingly at the bags of alcohol he's carrying. "It's strictly for the purpose of becoming better teachers, so says Kayama-sensei."

They watch him hobble down the street towards the house where they can faintly hear their music teacher Hizashi Yamada's voice. It grows quiet between the trio, so Shouto breaks the silence with a question that's bubbling inside.

"…A hero," he begins slowly. He's not used to striking up conversations. Two pairs of eyes look at him curiously, so he clears his throat before continuing, "Why do you want to be hero?"

Izuku flushes at the sudden question. "When I was a little kid, I used to get bullied a lot. I'd come home crying to my mom, and I made things harder for her since my dad is abroad a lot for work. But when I watched All Might, I realized that heroes don't have to have super-powers or wear capes."

There's a faraway look in Izuku's eyes. Shouto catches himself wondering how far ahead the boy sees. "Sometimes, being a hero is just facing life with a smile."

His words hit Shouto hard. How had he been living his life thus far? Led along by his father's orders, Shouto has grown apathetic to his circumstances. Suddenly, his admiration for the green-haired boy increases.

"You're brave," Shouto tells him. If it was even possible, Izuku's cheeks redden more, but there's a proud grin on his face.

"Well, even though I say that, I don't really have a concrete plan for the future," Izuku admits sheepishly, rubbing the back of his head. He has considered pursuing a degree to go into social work, but nothing is set in stone. "Not like Iida-kun."

Shouto brings his attention over to the sullen bespectacled boy.

"I want to be a doctor," Tenya asserts. His fingers drum against his leg. "A surgeon preferably."

"That's hard work," Shouto comments. There's a strained smile that appears on the other boy's face.

"That's why I must continue studying," Tenya concedes.

"Why?" Shouto asks. He's heard of many following the medical path, and it always interested him to hear the reasoning. For some, it was the money and for others, it was for some sick sense of self-gratification. Maybe Shouto's just been influenced by the wrong kinds of doctors throughout his lifetime.

Tenya clenches his jaw tightly. Izuku glances over at his friend worriedly.

"Uh, how about we head back home? It's getting late," the smallest boy insists. He wasn't lying. By now, the streets are illuminated by dim, sparse lighting.

The trio walk in silence. Shouto, preoccupied with forming an apology for being too meddlesome (and he **hated** nosy people). Tenya, preoccupied by his burdensome thoughts. Izuku, preoccupied with formulating a plan to break the ice that had frosted over them during the cool, summer night.

They reach Tenya's house first.

Shouto repeats his words carefully in his mind before opening his mouth. "Iida, I—"

"I'm sorry!" Tenya interrupts, bowing his head to form a 90 degrees angle. Izuku and Shouto are taken aback. "I know the atmosphere was awkward because of me. It was rude."

"It's fine." And Shouto **means** it. "I'm also to blame—"

"No, you're not at fault at all, Shouto-san. It's because of my lack of confidence," Tenya argues.

Shouto tries not to let his frustration show.

"Listen, I don't—"

"Actually, it's impolite to doubt you. I should have been truthful when you asked instead of running away like a coward."

Shouto gives up trying to assume half the blame.

"Alright," Shouto relents. "I forgive you."

"Thank you," Tenya sighs. He stares right at Shouto's gray eye. "Would you still like to hear my reasoning?"

"If you want."

"…I trust you," the blue-haired boy murmurs. It's odd, because Shouto is used to hearing the opposite. "I want to be a doctor because of my brother. He got into a nasty accident while he was in college. A truck driver was driving drunk, and…"

Tenya trails off, leaving Shouto to fill in the blanks. The half-and-half boy bites his lip in contemplation, admonishing the fool who made the decision to drive inebriated.

"I'm sorry," is all he can manage to get out of his mouth, though he doesn't really know what's he sorry about. It feels like the right thing to say in this situation. Both Izuku and Tenya give him a bitter smile.

"My brother survived. But, he's paralyzed waist down. Tensei, my brother—he-he was a track star. You can imagine the psychological trauma dealt, so he took a break from college to come back here and recuperate," Tenya continues. He lets out a shaky breath. "Tensei's **my** hero. I want to do everything I can to give him back a reason for living."

Would Shouto do the same for Isamu and Koji? When the scandal hit, he did nothing to comfort Isamu, cursing him for allowing the heavy burden to be placed onto Shouto. When Koji was rushed into the emergency room for sudden blood transfusions, he did nothing except wonder when he would return to help him with his coding projects.

Compared to Tenya, Shouto is a terrible younger brother, and the revelation disgusts him.

"You're both good people," Shouto declares. Better people than he ever hoped to be.

Izuku chuckles. "You are too, Shouto-san."

Was he? He tries to remember the last time he felt compassion for another human being, Fuyumi excluded. The number of times could be counted on one hand. Furthermore, how he helped others was through his father's money and influence, not his own.

He wonders how much longer he'll stay underneath his father's shadow.

 _Not anymore_ , Shouto vows, staring up at the starry sky. There's not as much light pollution here, so he can clearly see the constellations he's only had the pleasure of seeing in textbooks before. They twinkle back at him as if approving his resolve.

* * *

When he arrives home, he finds an angry Fubuki seething in the living room.

"You! Where have you been?" his uncle angrily shouts. Shouto retains an impassive expression.

"Outside." He's not lying.

"I don't like your tone," Fubuki hisses. He glares at his nephew. "If you're going to be staying in this house, you should at least have the decency to tell us where you're going to be."

Shouto would have relented, would have agreed to his uncle's house rules, if Fubuki hadn't continued running off his mouth.

"I don't know how you were raised, but I hope you didn't take after that skirt-chasing father of yours—"

The teenager slams his hand against the wall. They all stare at the dent he's left in shock before a snarl escapes his uncle's lips.

"Hey! You're going to pay for that!"

"Fubuki, stop provoking him," Baba orders. She rushes over to Shouto, cradling his bruised hand. Gently, she whispers, "Go outside to the garden to cool your head. I'll take care of your uncle."

He practically runs out when his grandmother releases her grip on him, ignoring the curses sent his way courtesy of Fubuki. Something hot is bubbling in his stomach, and it frightens Shouto. His sudden display of violence, his incapability of stopping his knuckles from colliding with the wall.

Shouto really has Enji's blood in him.

Counting down from 100 inside his head, he quietly takes deep breaths, just like his therapist advised. He takes his phone out to use the flashlight feature, and his eye searches his surroundings to find something to distract himself with. It walks over the cobbled stone steps, jumps over the pots of herbs, and rests on a brick wall.

There's something odd about it, so Shouto treks over, placing his hands over the rough surface. Weeds and vines have grown over, green and brown replacing its white color until Shouto's hand just feels air.

He pauses, moving his phone over towards the discrepancy. There's a hole, just large enough for him to squeeze into.

Shouto looks back at the house, turns his head towards the wall, and goes through.

Both sides are covered in dense foliage. Large trees nearly cover his view of the moon. Oddly enough, there's about a couple feet of dirt path for him to walk through before disappearing into the darkness. Any ordinary person would turn back from exploring the beaten road, but Shouto is compelled by his curiosity to continue ahead.

When the path ends, there's a frayed rope tied to a tree trunk that leads through the forestry. He tests its strength and reckons that it's sturdy enough to bear his weight. With just the rope leading him and his phone in his left hand, the adventurous teenager forges into the unknown.

The other end of the rope is attached to a dark metal gate. Shouto flashes his phone's light through the gaps of the fencing. It seems as if it were part of someone's property.

Well, that was a let-down.

He's about to turn back when he hears shuffling. Shouto ceases all movement at once. The noises continue despite him standing motionlessly still.

A thousand thoughts race through his head. Some are chastising him for taking a suspicious route that could easily be filled with murderers or dangerous animals, while others are laughing at the headlines that would announce his death, ranging from _Todoroki Heir Dies in Countryside_ to _Local Mythological Creature Claims Another Victim_.

The sound grows closer, and Shouto decides now is not the time to be entertaining ridiculous thoughts.

"Who's there?" a voice calls out accusingly. He thinks it belongs to either a woman or a prepubescent boy, both of which he's fairly confident in beating at hand-to-hand combat. Years of learning karate finally came to fruition.

From the other side of the fence, a bright light is directed towards the white-and-red-haired boy, and Shouto squints his eye at the sudden change. Darn, he let his guard down, and now the enemy has the advantage over him—

A loud, horrified shriek causes him to lose balance. Suddenly, his feet are no longer firmly planted on the ground, gravity has become his worst enemy, and he doesn't realize his fall has come to a halt until he's staring up at Orion.

 _I'm alive_ , he thinks in amazement. Other than the soreness to his butt, he's rather lucky that he never hit his head nor did he sustain any large scratches during his fall. He's a child of miracles.

When he returns to his grandmother's house, the woman spares him the embarrassment by wordlessly going off to start running the hot water and prepare a bath for her dirty grandson.

His uncle, on the other hand, is not merciful.

"AHAHA, ARE YOU AN IDIOT?!" Fubuki howls, slapping his knees gleefully at the mere sight of his normally collected nephew. Shouto's hair has leaves and twigs stuck inside, styled up with mud. His clothes are dirtied with god-knows-what, and his shoes aren't faring any better. "What'd you do? Fall down a road or something?"

Well, his uncle isn't wrong, but Shouto isn't about to tell him that.

Still shaking his head in disbelief, Fubuki opens the closet and throws a towel over at Shouto who reflexively catches it. The former commands, "Leave your shoes there. I'll wash it in the morning."

Shouto opens his mouth and closes it, merely nodding his head at his uncle's words. Perhaps it was his way of apologizing, no matter how discreet. He passes by him, ignoring the laughter, and glances over at the hole he made.

It's been clumsily patched up by gorilla tape.

"Shouto-chan, the bath is ready," Baba tells him. He heads inside, cleans himself, and emerges from the bathroom with the towel around his neck. His uncle complains to him about dirtying his favorite white shirt, to which Shouto simply shrugs his shoulders. Baba loudly complains that she's surrounded by two man-children, though there's affection in her grievances.

Shouto is fast asleep by the time he lays his sore body down on the futon, exhausted by all the trials and tribulations he's had to face today.


	3. She Wishes For Your Trust

_**Rip.**_

 _ **A petal floats gently to the floor.**_

 _ **"She loves me..."**_

 _ **Rip.**_

 _ **"She loves me not..."**_

* * *

 _A young boy, about the age of six, sat crying on the silk Isfahan rug in front of two adults, one a heartless harpy and the other a motionless mountain._

 _Shouto's throat hurt from screaming, his eyes irritated from the constant rubbing, hands wet from drying all the tears. He's not the type of child to cry easily, but ever since his mother's exile, his temper flared from time to time, and even Shouto was not exempt from throwing tantrums._

 _"Enji, do something about him," the woman hissed at his father. He could feel his father's eyes glare daggers into him. Shouto braced himself for the inevitable pain he'll feel soon enough._

 _All the while, Shouto was thinking of his mother._

 _Mommy—the first strike only made him wail louder. His right cheek stung dully._

 _Mom—the second strike had him wheezing for air, small arms clutching his stomach in pain._

 _Mother—the third strike left him breathless. Shouto had stopped crying._

 _"Are you done?" the gruff voice of his father inquired threateningly. Shouto lay shivering on the carpet, unresponsive until he felt his father's touch on his shoulder._

 _"I'm finished, F-Father," he stuttered, hoping that it's enough to placate him. It does, and Shouto was left on the floor, motionless. The woman tutted at him in disgust._

 _"He's ruining my favorite rug," she complained to Enji. The man grunted, making no move to drag his son off. "I want a new one."_

 _"Choose one then," the Todoroki CEO grumbled. He had enough money to throw around. "I'll deal with the guests, Mother."_

 _"Mmm," the older woman hummed. Once his father left the room, Shouto felt a sense of apprehension grow as he watched her slowly approach him. Stormy blue eyes looked down on him like a bug._

 _I'mscaredI'mscaredI'mscaredMomwhereareyou—_

 _"Shouto, sweetie, why did you decide to throw a tantrum in the middle of the party? You **know** how important this was to your grandmother." Her voice was harsh, grating, like nails scratching against the chalkboard._

 _He began to shiver even more._

 _"T-They told me Mommy is c-c-crazy because she…"_

 _Even with his young age, Shouto knew enough about how the world viewed his family, and he wanted to correct them by telling the outsiders his mother wasn't psychopathic like they claimed she was._

 _"That's right, Shouto. Your mother **is** crazy," his grandmother asserted. Her eyes glinted dangerously, as if daring the young boy to try and argue. He did not. "She's a money-grubbing tramp who sullies the Todoroki name. I don't know where Enji got to idea to bring her into the family, but now that the eyesore is gone, I finally have control over everything again."_

 _It didn't take a genius to realize that his grandmother was a narcissistic control-freak. Shouto adverted his eyes, counting the seconds on the clock, praying for his father to return._

 _"So, Shouto dear, if you don't want to be handled like she was, I suggest you stop acting like a petulant child and grow up," the woman spat, poking his sides with her heels. The small boy groaned in pain. "Goodness, her blood is ruining my pedigree. If only you were more like Isamu."_

 _He closed his eyes, willing the old hag away from him._

 _His mother is kind._

 _His mother is gentle._

 _His mother loves him—_

Shouto's eyes flutter open, chest heaving up and down laboriously. His body is coated with cold sweat and goosebumps littering every inch of his skin. He stares up at the ceiling fan whirring above and comforts himself with the thought that the nightmare remained in the past, and he is okay in the present.

Twelve years.

That traumatic event occurred nearly twelve years ago during one of the dinner parties his grandmother hosted. One of the guests made a comment about his mother, and suddenly, all attention was on him as he melted into a crying heap.

Thankfully, his grandmother did not live much longer. She died of a heart attack, probably because of Isamu's 'betrayal' of her expectations when he married his high school sweetheart.

Unlike his mother's funeral, the procession was large with many guests and fancy decorations, filled with the exuberance she most likely had requested whilst alive. Yet, not a single person cried for her, not even her own son.

Shouto brings his hand to cover his scar.

He has many repressed memories, likely due to trauma his psychologist told him. Shouto did not miss the way the doctor eyed Enji warily, but money kept his lips sealed.

Back then, he felt the need to defend his mother against worthless accusations from strangers. Had he really loved her that much? Shouto clutches the left side of his chest, thoroughly confused.

 _This is why I'm here_ , Shouto reassures himself. _To sort everything out and move on._

At least, that's what his father's condition had been when he told him he wanted to visit the Yukimuras. When he returns to the city, he will no longer be Shouto Yukimura but Shouto Todoroki.

 _No_ , Shouto resolves. He'll reject becoming a carbon copy of the man he hated with every fiber of his being. _I won't be like him._

He slowly rolls off the futon, picking up his phone and unplugging the charger from its socket. The time is much earlier than he expects, but Shouto admits that he can't relax and sleep after a nightmare like the one he had. Making his way outside the room, he's shocked to discover he's not the only one awake at this ungodly hour.

"Shouto-chan, you're awake," Baba exclaims, not at all hiding her surprise. She's wearing an apron, preparing to cook. He gradually edges closer until he's one foot away from the kitchen. "What would you like to eat?"

Every day, his servant would ask him that question. They'd offer him dishes from all around the world: friend sponge cake, bread dough and salt fish, scrambled eggs and sausage, lentil soup—the selection was limitless.

But he doesn't want to burden his grandmother, so he shrugs and says, "Anything."

Baba gives him a mischievous smile. "So, you're fine with nattō?"

Shouto scrunches his nose at the thought of the fermented dish. He had it once and nearly threw up. The smell had been pungent, the flavor too strong and the texture way too slimy for his liking.

His distaste for it must be apparent, for Baba laughs and comforts him with, "Just kidding. I'll serve you toast and green tea. Sound good?"

He merely nods his head, standing awkwardly at the entrance of the kitchen. Baba takes one look at him before telling her grandson to sit at the dinner table instead of helping her with cooking. With good reason, because Shouto knows next to nothing when it came to the culinary arts.

Slowly, the windows allow the morning light to filter in the room. He watches it touch his grandmother's small back moving to and from cabinets, the smell of bread slowly filling his nose. Shouto has only seen scenes like these in TV shows when he's permitted to watch them.

Back at the estate, all the food was prepared the very moment he stepped into the dining room. Usually, he would have to eat alone because his father and siblings were often too busy to accompany him.

As Baba sets down all the utensils and brings over their breakfast, seating herself in front of her grandson, he finds the addition of another warm body to enjoy a meal with is a welcome change.

"Thank you for the food," Shouto mutters quietly. He peeks over at his grandmother who's looking at him fondly. Softly, just a hair above mute, he adds, "Baba."

The older woman's smile is warm enough to melt the polar ice caps.

They eat largely in silence. Sometimes, Baba will share her plans for the day and enlighten Shouto about farm life. To his credit, the teen will nod his head and offer small comments occasionally.

Once he finishes the piece of bread, he licks the crumbs off his fingers and concludes this to be the most delicious breakfast he's had the pleasure of indulging himself in.

"Your mother did the same thing when she was younger," Baba shares, eyes crinkling fondly. Shouto stops his actions, lowering his hand down to the table. His fingers flex at her words. "Toast and strawberry jam. Without those two things, she wouldn't have been able to survive childhood."

Shouto envisions a small, pale girl with short white hair and large, doe-like gray eyes. She runs around the table, taking three times as many steps that he needs to, a piece of toast in her hands and red jam smeared around her mouth.

He wants to reach out, steady her wobbling legs. But she's just an apparition, a figment of his imagination, a product of his perceptions of a younger version of a woman he did not have the privilege of knowing personally.

When she bumps into one of the table's legs, she disappears.

"Strawberries were her favorite fruit, and pink is her favorite color, did you know Shouto-chan? My husband and I used to go to the city to buy her things because she was so stubborn," Baba continues, resting her head in her hands and staring outside the window towards the strawberry patches.

She reappears, now a prepubescent lady, dressed pink from head to toe. Pink floral headband, pink flowy dress, pink open-toed sandals, and strawberry flavored lip-gloss. She gives him a big, bright grin before disappearing down the hallway towards his— **her** —room.

"That girl was scary when she was mad. Puffed her cheeks out and locked herself in her room. Nobody'd notice she was close to exploding until it was t-too late…" Baba's voice cracks unwittingly, and Shouto lowers his eyes down to the cup of green tea in his hands.

It's grown cold.

"Sorry, Shou-chan, g-give me a moment, won't you?"

Baba hides her face in her frail arms. She looks smaller now, not like the radiant woman who could light up the room with her warm presence. Looking at her shaking shoulders, Shouto is reminded that everyone has their moments of weakness and vulnerability.

Soundlessly, he rises from his chair, careful not to scrape its legs against the flooring. The teen grabs the used plates and cups, heading over towards the kitchen sink. Grabbing the small sponge by the faucet, he squeezes it, the squishy texture an unfamiliar sensation in his hands. Experimentally, he rubs the surface in circular motions until they're covered in suds and turns the knob to wash them away with a constant stream of water. He watches the bubbles slide off contemplatively.

Shouto may not show emotions well, but he's observant.

He's seen the way Baba and Fubuki carefully avoid talking about his mother for too long. How the house is littered with family pictures save for ones that include Setsumi. How he catches his uncle staring forlornly at the right side of his face when spacing out. How Baba, in her room adjacent to his and separated by thin walls, sobs quietly at night for the loss of her precious child.

It may be that Shouto has lost his mother who had been with him for his first five years, but Baba and Fubuki lost a daughter and sister respectively that they'd loved for many decades longer.

"Oi, kid," he hears Fubuki call out. Shouto rotates his head over his shoulders to see his uncle already dressed in what seemed to be farming clothes. "Come help me out with something."

Mismatched eyes take in the tiller and shovel Fubuki holds cautiously.

"What kind of help…?"

Fubuki gives him a menacing grin. It unnerves the white-and-red-haired boy.

"You're gonna get a taste of farm life, pretty boy."

Thus, Shouto finds himself outside the house and down towards a large patch of earth. There aren't any weeds around, probably because of his uncle's doing. Fubuki spears the tiller down into the ground, moving the soil around to demonstrate what he wants his nephew to do.

"Just do it like I showed you," Fubuki commands. He thrusts the tool into Shouto's gloved hands and props himself down a couple feet away on a patch of grass, basking under the morning sunlight.

Shouto can feel a vein pop in his forehead. He knows he's just being used for free manual labor. Fubuki gives him a challenging look when he sees the frown on his nephew's face.

"What's wrong? Too much work for a city boy?"

A competitive fire is lit inside Shouto to prove his uncle wrong. He'll till the soil so well, it'll make Fubuki ashamed to call himself a farmer. While he's laboring, the white-haired man will occasionally hurl insults at the effort he's put in which Shouto quickly corrects.

After an unusually long period of silence between the two, Shouto allows himself a moment of rest from the back-breaking work and glances over at the seated man. He's examining Shouto with such intensity that it makes the teen a little self-conscious.

"Does it hurt?"

The question throws Shouto off his game as he answers with a quizzical look. Although he feels sore, especially after his fall the night before and the grueling task assigned to him, it's not painful enough to render him out of commission. Fubuki taps the left side of his face for clarification.

"Your burn, dumbass. Does it hurt?" his uncle repeats with more detail.

It dawns onto Shouto that he neglected to put on his eyepatch this morning. Unease sets in; suddenly, he feels exposed. Fubuki waits expectantly for an answer.

"No," Shouto finally replies. He blows his bangs away from his face, though they stick to his forehead because of sweat. "The skin couldn't heal. It happened years ago."

"I know that," Fubuki huffs. He looks conflicted, cheeks puffed out. Baba's words echo in Shouto's mind, and now the boy can clearly see his uncle's resemblance to his mother.

 _If you knew, why'd you ask?_ Shouto thinks. He concludes that no matter what happens between the two of them, he simply cannot get along with the older man.

"Do ya hate her for it?"

Shouto nearly drops the till at the unexpected inquiry. He furrows his eyebrows at his uncle's unusual talkativeness. But, he entertains the man's attempt at conversation.

Considering all the people that deserved hatred in his life, there is only one: his father. Others fall into a spectrum of dislike and apathy, with a few handful lucky enough to be on his good side.

"No," Shouto tells his uncle truthfully. His chest feels lighter admitting that aloud.

"You're a weird one, kid," Fubuki comments with a wry smirk. Shouto exhales loudly through his nostrils.

Fubuki is drawing shapes onto the floor with his finger. A triangle, two stick figures—he's creating a scene, but of what, Shouto is not so sure.

"Your mom had a temper when she was younger, ya know? Me and her got into a lot of fights when we were kids."

Somehow, Shouto doesn't have trouble visualizing his uncle stirring controversy with his mother. It catches him off-guard, however, when his uncle lifts the right sleeve of his shirt to reveal a zigzagging scar running up the length from his hand to his elbow.

"She gave me this lil' gift when she pushed me off a cliff when I was six. Started crying for my parents once she realized what she done," Fubuki discloses, shaking his head bemusedly as he recalls the memory. Shouto traces the ugly line with cloudy eyes.

He has a faint idea where this is going, and Shouto's not yet sure he appreciates where it's headed.

"That girl did a lot of crazy things. Like running off and marrying your dad. Seriously, don't know where she got that bright idea—"

"Where are you going with this?" Shouto croaks. His throat feels uncomfortably dry. "What… What are you trying to say?"

Fubuki stares into his eyes. It paralyzes Shouto, so he can't run away from facing all the troubled feelings swarming his thoughts, thoughts that he buried years prior and unearthed by his mother's death.

"Sometimes, we do things we end up regretting. End up hurting people in ways we don't mean to. Doesn't mean we stop caring 'bout one another though."

Shouto swallows the lump in his throat, gripping the tool in his hand until his knuckles are as white as the right side of his hair.

 _"Your mother doesn't love you," his grandmother sneered. Her bony fingers thumbed the uneven skin on his face. "This is proof."_

The left side of his face burns underneath the summer sun.

 _"Mommy, do you love Daddy?" a four-year-old Shouto asked his mother. She cradled the freshly formed bruise on her cheek with one hand as she ran her fingers through his hair with the other. Setsumi gave her youngest child a kiss on his forehead._

 _"Sometimes," she mused. Shouto wiggled closer until he could hear her steady heartbeat._

 _"Do you love me?"_

 _She stared down at his curious, innocent eyes. Some days, he looks like her; others, he looks like her husband. Setsumi caressed Shouto's face lovingly._

 _"Always."_

He wavers. Perhaps he could get along with Fubuki after all.

"Okay, enough with the sentimental crap. Gimme the till, kid. Go back inside and check to make sure my old woman's not dead yet," the man orders.

Shouto blinks as the tool is ripped from his hands. Fubuki releases a low whistle as pats the ground with a foot.

"Man, you suck at this."

Scratch that thought—he **definitely** cannot get along with the man.

When he returns to the house, lunch has already been prepared. Baba offers him an especially large portion of rice when he arrives at the dining table after a quick shower to get rid of the grime.

Shouto is tempted to ask his grandmother whether she knew of a certain 'Nobuyuki Yaoyorozu', but after remembering the events that transpired earlier in the morning, he uses his better judgment and decides that now is not the time.

After lunch, Shouto sits on the veranda leading to the garden. The wind blows gently against his skin, a welcome sensation to combat the torrid weather. As he contemplates over what to do for the remainder of his day, Baba taps him on the shoulder.

"Shou-chan, you have a visitor," the elder informs her grandson. He finds Izuku standing at the entrance.

The green-haired boy grins when he sees the stoic teen.

"Shouto-san, are you free today?" Izuku asks excitedly. It's funny how he always comes to his rescue.

"Yeah."

"Great!" his neighbor beams. The boy is much too bright for his own good. "If you'd like, do you want to come to the lake with my friends and me?"

For the first time in his life, Shouto Todoroki is being invited to a hangout with similarly aged people without any ulterior motives attached. Izuku didn't invite him because he was Enji's son: the revelation made the corners of his lips twitch upwards for a split second.

"Sure," Shouto agrees, stuffing his hands in his pockets. He turns back to Baba who watches the exchange with a smile. "Can I?"

"Go ahead," Baba says, waving her hands in a shooing motion. She's surprisingly strong because she can push both Shouto and Izuku out the door. "Just try not to stay out too late, okay?"

The gate is closed behind them as Izuku sheepishly rubs the back of his head. He begins to lead Shouto down the road before venturing off to a wayward path that's en route to the riverbank.

"Every Sunday, my classmates and I hang around the river when we're free," Izuku tells the aloof boy. They trudge through the tall grass that's grown by the side of the running water. "The spot we've claimed has pretty shallow water so we can safely play around."

"You come here every Sunday?" Todoroki disbelievingly questions. Izuku looks back at him with inquiring eyes. "Don't you get tired of it?"

"Oh, well, n-no? I mean, sometimes all we do is sit around and talk, but it's fun to spend time with friends," Izuku answers with a shy blush. He adds in a quiet voice, "They're the first real group of friends I've made."

Shouto simply nods his head. He doesn't understand it as well as he understands the fundamental theorem of calculus, but he can faintly grasp at the meaning of Izuku's words. Talking with Tenya and Izuku didn't sound like the worst thing he could be doing on a weekly basis.

"Oh, Jirou-san!" Izuku calls out to a girl standing outside a large, metal fence. It looks familiar to Shouto. "Are you coming to the river?"

She has short purple-hair, and out of all the people he's met thus far, she has the most unique wardrobe. Everything about her screamed 'punk'. The girl motions for them to come closer, so they walk over.

"Midoriya and…" the girl eyes Shouto warily. "The city boy. Kaminari told me about you."

"This is Kyouka Jirou, another one of my classmates," Izuku presents. Kyouka blows a gum bubble upon her introduction. "And this is Shouto Yukimura, but he prefers being called Shouto."

"Shouto, huh?" Kyouka murmurs. She leans closer, carefully observing his face. Shouto is glad he has his eyepatch on because the girl is studying him with eyes like a hawk.

"You must be popular with girls," she concludes with her observations. He has a pretty face, frustratingly so for a boy, and he exudes an air of mystery that would make girls like Mina and Tooru swoon.

He bats his eyes like she's grown another head. Kyouka laughs at his lackluster reaction, crossing her arms and leaning against the metal fence.

"Definitely popular," she asserts confidently. The unsuspecting teen ignores the warm flush that's on his cheeks. "Just doesn't know it. The worst kind of guy."

Izuku gives her a strained smile. He can practically **feel** Shouto's awkwardness. "A-Anyways, what're you doing here, Jirou-san?"

Kyouka gestures to the property behind the fence with her thumb. "Waiting on Momo. She said she wanted to bring sunscreen for everyone because nobody thinks about it until it's too late."

"Haha, that sounds like our vice-president," Izuku says cheerfully. He rubs his nose guiltily because he's completely forgotten about skincare. Luckily, class 3-A had such reliable leaders like Tenya and Momo to watch over them. A moving object seizes his attention. "Ah, there's Yaomomo!"

 _Yaomomo?_ Shouto wonders. It sounds awfully close to the surname of his mother's first love.

He disinterestedly watches as a black-haired girl, ponytail swishing behind her, approaches the group. A passing butterfly makes him lose focus, so he doesn't see her start sprinting, grab Kyouka by the arm, and push him on his shoulder until he stumbles two feet backwards.

"Step away from her, pervert!"

Time slows to a standstill. Kyouka eyes widen at the accusation while Izuku's mouth hangs open dumbly. The ponytailed girl is glowering at him. Shouto touches the spot where her hand had been, brows furrowed.

This is the first ever in his life that he's been accused of being a sexual deviant.

"What?" is all he can manage to say.

"I knew a normal pretty boy coming to town was too good to be true," Kyouka mumbles under her breath. She clicks her tongue at Shouto. "So, you must the stalker Momo saw last night."

Stalker? Last night? He recalls having a flashlight shone on him and girlish scream and guesses that the person responsible for the soreness in his gluteus maximus is the ponytailed girl.

"Ah," Shouto acknowledges. He narrows his eyes at their words. "I'm not a pervert."

"That is exactly what a pervert would say!" Momo retorts. She places her hands on her hips. "Mineta says that all the time."

Shouto helplessly turns to Izuku for back-up, placing the meek boy in a rough spot. He begins to sweat profusely.

"W-Wait a minute, Yaomomo. Maybe there's an explanation for all this?" the green-haired teen suggests. Momo crosses her arms unwittingly.

"If you have an excuse, let me hear it."

Izuku gestures for Shouto to tell his side of the story. He shuffles his feet uneasily.

"I…followed a rope."

"That is the worst excuse I've ever heard," Kyouka blandly states. Izuku can't shield Shouto from that one. However, a look of confusion crosses Momo's face.

"But… Only the Yukimuras…"

"Ah! This is Shouto Yukimura, but he prefers being called by his given name," Izuku intervenes. Momo's mouth forms an o-shape before an embarrassed blush spreads across her face like wildfire.

"I-I apologize for my hasty accusations," Momo stutters, looking at her feet in shame. She bows her head down to Shouto. It makes him feel even more uncomfortable.

"It's fine."

"So, he's not a stalker pervert?" Kyouka asks, almost sounding disappointed. Izuku tries to ease the tension in the air with a hearty laugh.

"Good thing we cleared up that misunderstanding, huh?" the friendly boy says, rubbing the back of his head nervously. When he's met with silence, he internally sighs. "L-Let's head down to meet with everyone else!"

Though Shouto wants to pull Momo away to ask how she knew about the rope, he doesn't find an opportunity to because her head is hung low the entire trek. Kyouka and Izuku take turns asking him harmless questions like what his favorite music was ("I don't listen to music," he tells the disappointed girl) and what his hobbies were ("I don't have any," he tells the disheartened boy). Momo doesn't utter a single peep.

He can hear the group before he sees them.

"Everyone, please stop splashing about! We don't have any sunscreen on yet."

"Pfft, Iida-kun, you don't have to be so serious."

"That's right, Iida! Let's the girls jump in already. Their clothes clinging to their bodies, water droplets glistening off their skin—"

"Control those evil desires of yours."

"The actual worst, kero."

When Izuku had said 'some friends', Shouto expected maybe three or four new faces. Not nine. The boy is incredibly popular for someone who claims to have few friends.

"Hey guys, this is my neighbor, Shouto Yukimura," Izuku cheerfully announces to the crowd of people in front of him. Shouto can already feel the tiredness settling in when he meets their excited looks. "Er, would you like to tell them a little about yourself?"

Shouto shrugs his shoulders. "Call me Shouto."

"Shouto-san, it's a pleasure to see you again!" Tenya eagerly calls out, waddling out of the river to stand by the new teen. Momo, as if on cue, hands over a bottle of sunscreen which the class president graciously accepts, lathering on the liquid over the exposed parts of his body. Kyouka promptly removes her shoes to kick water at a short, purple-haired boy.

"Wha—? Iida-kun, you already know him? That's cheating," a brown-haired girl pouts. She hops over towards the newcomers with pep in every step. "My name is Ochako Uraraka, by the way. It's nice to meet you!"

"Cheating? I would never!" Tenya wails, crossing his arms to form an x-shape. Ochako bursts out in laughter at the straight-laced boy's reaction. Shouto doesn't miss the way Izuku's ears turn a bright shade of red at the feminine sound.

"I believe her insinuation was merely in jest," a black-haired boy sitting in the shade, away from the river bank, sighs. He mutters something about loudness before catching Shouto's eye on him. "Ah… Fumikage Tokoyami. Pleased to be your acquaintance."

Their personalities seem to mesh well together. Or, perhaps, he just appreciates the fact that not everyone he's introduced to is a boundless sphere of pure energy bouncing around.

The large, silver-haired boy next to Fumikage nods his head over towards Shouto. "Mezo Shouji."

Brief, to the point—now he's found two people. Shouto nods back, and there's a moment of understanding between the three of them.

But of course, things were too good to be true. He feels a menacing aura directed at him and looks down to see a vertically-challenged, purple afro-haired boy glaring daggers up at him.

"Ohoho, so just because you're a little good-looking, you think you can come in and steal all the attention, huh city-boy?" the shorty grumbles darkly. Shouto resists the temptation to push him away with a tap on the forehead.

Luckily for Shouto, the shorty is dragged away by the collar of his shirt by the person he saw yesterday at the bakery.

"Enough of that Mineta. Cool your head," the friendly boy jokes, dipping the cursing teen under water. He gives Shouto a friendly wave. "The name's Rikido Sato. Sorry you didn't get to try the melon pan, but maybe next time!"

"Mmmphh!"

"Don't mind Mineta too much. He's a good guy deep down," Izuku whispers over to Shouto who raises an eyebrow at the comment. "Ah, yeah, the one almost drowning is Minoru Mineta." And then, Izuku realizes his own words and jumps to the poor guy's rescue. "W-Wait, Sato-san, I think that's enough!"

Ochako giggles as the green-haired boy rushes over to his classmate's aid. It devolves into splash fighting until Izuku trips backward and falls in the water, effectively getting his whole body soaked in one fell swoop. Shouto stares at Ochako, affection quite literally pouring out of her eyes. She notices with a jolt that she's been caught.

"A-Ah, erm…" Ochako stumbles, unable to come up with an excuse. Something about Shouto's unfaltering gaze makes her uneasy. She quickly motions for the long, green-haired girl to come over. "T-Tsu-chan, you haven't introduced yourself yet!"

"I'm Tsuyu Asui, kero," Tsuyu says with an easy smile. Shouto doesn't comment on her odd speech pattern. "Call me Tsuyu-chan."

"Ah…" Shouto knows it's hilarious coming from him, but the sudden drop in formalities is something he's not used to.

Sensing his hesitance, Tsuyu reassures, "I have all my friends call me that."

Friends…

The word fills Shouto up with giddiness. It's silly, because just the day before, he'd reprimand himself for becoming soft and weak. But now that it's happening to him, he doesn't oppose the change in mindset.

He's surrounded by jokes and laughter, and for the first time in his life, Shouto is at ease in a crowd.

A shy head peeks out from behind Tsuyu, and it's only then that Shouto notices the large, imposing boy standing by her back.

"Ah, this guy's Kouji Kouda," Kyouka introduces, waddling over towards them. The gentle giant offers the stoic boy a shy smile. Kyouka taps his forearm with her fist, the highest she can reach with her height. "He's pretty quiet, but he's nice."

With all the introductions out of the way, Shouto mentally recounts all the new faces he's encountered and sticks names to them. Because he's so engrossed in his thoughts, the teenager doesn't notice a pair of troubled obsidian eyes studying his every move.

They spend the rest of their time playing in the water. Even the more reserved ones, like Fumikage and Mezo, eventually join in on the fun.

At first, Shouto is hesitant on who to splash. But after getting caught in the middle of Izuku and Tenya's mini battle, they quickly learn not to cross the dual-color-haired boy because he created large waves that indiscriminately hit all in his general vicinity.

When even the more competitive individuals in the group are tuckered out, they sit in a circle waiting for their clothes to dry by the riverbank, the sun slowly descending above them.

Shouto is surprised by his own reluctance to head straight home. Although there isn't a clear point for him to stay around much longer, he experiences an odd sense of loneliness welling up inside at the thought of leaving the river and his new friends behind.

"Let's play a game," Ochako suggests after drying her hair off with a towel she brought. Izuku chuckles at the sight of the cheerful girl's disheveled do.

"Oooh, truth or dare? Spin the bottle? Seven minutes in heaven?" Minoru ambitiously suggests. Mezo karate chops his head to shut him up.

"Most of those we can't even do," the silver-haired teen points out. Minoru pouts, clutching his head in pain.

"Let's not put our chastity on line," Tenya sighs. Although some of them are already 18 and technically adults, they are still students and need to maintain a pure image until they are of marriageable age. Or so says his sense of morality.

"Then, how about two truths and a lie?" Momo offers. It's a fairly popular and simple game that didn't allow for Minoru's perversion to seep through. They democratically vote to play, 10-1 (Minoru was adamant on playing a game that involved more risk).

"How do you play?" Shouto inconspicuously whispers over to Izuku. The green-haired boy smiles softly at his naivety.

"You tell two truths and one lie. The rest of the group tries to figure out which one is the lie."

"What shall be the punishment?" Fumikage asks. Tsuyu brings a finger to her face to tap her lips thoughtfully.

"How about we share our future plans?" the green-haired girl proposes. Because they are third year students in high school, they had to submit their career plans to the faculty before summer break began.

Tenya clasps his hands together, a pleased smile on his face. "What a splendid idea, Asui-san! A perfect chance to get to know each other more."

"Call me Tsuyu, kero. And we've known each other since our first year."

"I'm sure there are some things we've yet to discover about one another," Momo insists. Though her voice is even and controlled, there's an eager glimmer in her eyes.

"If Yaomomo and Class President are up for it, we might as well, right?" Rikido says. No one argues with that reasoning, not even Minoru who crosses his arms with a pout. Without another moment to waste, the game begins.

"Let's start with you, new kid," Kyouka commands. All eyes turn to him inquisitively. There's a mischievous smile on her face, though he's not sure why.

Shouto takes a moment to consider what he should share.

"I have three siblings, I hate cold soba and…" Shouto trails off, staring at his hands. Well, it is only a game, so he continues with, "Yukimura isn't really my last name."

"Boring."

He ignores what the grape has to say about his choice.

"Huh, he's up there with Iida at being a square."

He ignores what the punk-rock girl has to say, too. Maybe he just didn't get along with purple-haired people.

"Cold soba is an odd choice for a hated food," Mezo comments. Ochako crosses her arms together contemplatively.

"But doesn't he look like he could be an only child?"

"You think? He gives off a youngest child vibe, kero."

"Truly, he is a man shrouded in mystery," Fumikage murmurs.

They guess incorrectly when they choose the sibling fact as the lie, and Shouto allows himself a small smile as the group collectively groans in defeat. It was a simple game, but it was an intimate session all the same. Seemingly innocuous details about people he's known for half a day made him feel closer to them than people he's known for years back at home.

Of the people who lost, he learns that Kyouka aspires to be a bassist for a rock band, Ochako dreams of landing herself a nice, cushy office job to support her parents, Rikido desires to open up a café somewhere in Tokyo, and Momo wishes to pursue a career as an author.

When the sun dips low enough to paint the sky in hues of orange and pink, the group decides it's time to start heading home. While everyone is busy gathering their belongings, Shouto seizes the chance and approaches the spiky-haired girl.

"Yaoyorozu."

The name rolls off his tongue easily, but despite that fact, it still feels strange. What were her relations to Nobuyuki Yaoyorozu, if there even was one? A name he's been torturing himself over for the past few days—a name of the unspoken story his mother wished to share with him.

"Ah, Shouto-san," Momo gasps. She's screwing on the caps to the sunscreen bottles. "Once again, I apologize for my mistake earlier."

"It's fine," Shouto dismisses. He's not good with words, so he gets straight to the point. "About the rope you mentioned earlier."

A flash of recognition lights in her eyes before her mouth curves down to a frown. "That is…"

They're interrupted by Minoru attaching himself to Shouto's waist.

"What a sneaky move! Waiting until everyone is distracted to corner the class' number one for yourself," the short boy grumbles darkly. Shouto attempts to shake him off, but he's stuck like a leech.

"Oi, you're bothering him," Mezo says, easily dragging Minoru away from the two. However, now that they are in the limelight, Shouto doesn't feel comfortable asking the girl his questions anymore. Momo notices his hesitance and leans in to whisper.

"I'll tell you later," she promises. Shouto tilts his head at her words because they're all headed home before realizing what she means. He nods his head, holding on to her vow.

"HEY! Iida, Shouto's making moves on Yaomomo!"

"Wha—?" Tenya lifts his head to glower at the two. He marches over and separates them forcibly, so they're at least two arms length apart. "This is improper conduct that I did not expect from you, Yaoyorozu-san."

"I-Iida-kun, I think you're misconstruing this situation..."

When things finally calm down and Shouto frees himself from the tiresome questioning of his peers, he returns to his grandmother's dwelling, filled with the smell of a homecooked dinner. Fubuki sends him smug smirk.

"Heard you got invited to go to the river, kid. Finally made some friends?"

Shouto blinks owlishly before nodding his head slowly. There's a soft smile splayed out on his face that lowers his uncle's guard.

"Yeah."

The impish aura disappears from his uncle as his shoulders slump down. "C'mon kid, you're supposed to fight back a little. You're making me feel depressed."

"Sorry," the younger male apologizes. He's unsure as to why he's the one apologizing, but seeing the dejected posture of the older man makes him do so.

Fubuki stares at him long and hard. He can't feel any malice emanating from the white-and-red-haired teen, so he sighs like he's lost the war. Shouto's purity was too much sometimes.

"Just… Just go wash up for dinner."

Shouto does as he's told, hands brushing over the crinkled clothes fondly. Memories of trips to the beach flood his thoughts. He never had the chance to play in the sea despite Fuyumi's prodding. His father had told him they were only there to discuss business plans.

It was always just that with his father: business. There was no room for fun and memories; everything had to have a purpose. But as Shouto recalls the seemingly pointless conversations he's had with strangers since arriving in Kannami, sometimes having no purpose is okay too.

Baba notes her grandson's sun-kissed skin during supper.

"Did you have fun today?" she kindly asks him.

He lowers his chopsticks down from his mouth. The dinners that he's grown accustomed to were filled with silence, the spaces between bodies if he had companions cold and empty. But here, not a single moment passed by without a comment from either Fubuki or Baba. It's intimate, and Shouto finds himself growing to like the environment.

 _"Adapt," Enji reminds him._

Shouto hides his grin behind his bowl of miso soup.

"Yes." And he **means** it.

While his uncle and grandmother are cleaning the aftermath of their meal together, Shouto asks if he can step outside to the garden. He clutches his phone in his right hand. Baba and Fubuki exchange looks of understanding.

"Just be careful," the elderly woman warns him. He nods his head and steps out into the arms of the summer evening.

Careful of what, he didn't know yet. And Shouto intends to find out.

His feet are moving on instinct, remembering to take an extra big step through the wall because of a loose brick, to peruse past the dirt path, hands clutching onto the rope like a lifeline, and before he's realized it, he meets Momo face-to-face on the other side of the fence.

Her face, illuminated by the electric lantern on the floor, is set like stone.

"A criminal always returns to the scene of the crime."

He furrows his eyebrows as he stables himself onto a piece of land that isn't an incline. She meets his scowl with a cordial smile.

"You said to meet here," he reminds her. She nods her head in agreement.

"So I did." Momo leans her head closer until her forehead is touching the metal bars. She squints her eyes at the rope he's gripping at. "You really did take the rope here."

"That's what I said, didn't I?" Shouto replies with a huff. His prickly attitude doesn't deter her bounciness, however.

"How did you find it? Wasn't it frightening to journey through the forest? Weren't you afraid of the darkness—"

"What do you know about Nobuyuki Yaoyorozu?" he interrupts her barrage of questions. Shouto is not here to entertain her intrusiveness.

Momo blinks, mouth curving down a little in offense. "You mean, my father?"

There's a sharp sound that comes out of him, a mixture between a gasp and a groan. That is not the answer he expects. Maybe it was ridiculous of him to expect the man to be a lone bachelor, especially since his mother had married his father and birthed four children, but the Nobuyuki in his mind is single and twice the man his father could ever hope to be.

"How do you know him?" Momo demands. She's bubbling with excitement, a contrast to the dark aura emanating from the white-and-red-haired male. When's she met with silence, she shakes the railing to grab his attention. "It's not fair if I'm the only one answering your questions."

"This isn't about fairness," Shouto hisses back at her. If there is one thing that Shouto firmly believes in, it's that the world is hardly ever fair.

She reels back like he's slapped her in the face. With her lips pursed, an epiphany hits. "You're not… You're not really a Yukimura, are you?"

"I am," Shouto cuts in. He is by half his blood; his white hair and gray eyes prove it. The teen takes in a deep breath, repeating, "I am."

"No, that's not it. You are a Yukimura, but you're also…" Bright, onyx eyes slice through his lies. "Todoroki. You're a Todoroki."

Of course, someone would eventually put the two together. Although his blue eye remained hidden, the fiery red hair is a dead giveaway, especially since his father's face is plastered in nearly every product his company creates. His shaky hands cause the rope to undulate.

"Don't," is all he can manage to gasp out. She casts him a look of doubt before pressing her lips together tightly to form a straight line.

"I won't tell anybody," she promises him. He can't bring himself to trust her words, at least, not yet. In fact, he doesn't trust anyone, not even himself.

But she stares into his gray eye, open and accepting. Momo is patient, doesn't goad him to share more than he's comfortable with. If he likened his tumultuous emotions to a blazing hellfire, then she is the calming waters that doused them out.

They pass a moment of silence, staring wordlessly at one another. Then, Shouto finally allows himself to relax, unraveling at the seams like a tightly bound ball of string.

"So, how do you know my father?" Momo tries again.

This time, she finally gets her question answered.

"It was in a letter."

"A letter?" she echoes dubiously.

"My mother's parting gift. I was given a letter with your father's name in it during her funeral."

"Oh. I-I see. I'm sorry."

Normally, Shouto dislikes hearing sympathy from others. It's forced and unnecessary, but he can't bring himself to chastise Momo. So quietly, he whispers, "It's okay. I didn't… We weren't very close."

Mom fumbles with the hem of her shirt. "I regret to inform you, but my father isn't home right now. He's on a business trip to gather material."

"Gather material?"

"'Who travels for love finds a thousand miles not longer than one'," Momo recites with a soft smile. She's met with a dull look. "It's a proverb. My father's an author, and he tours the world for inspiration."

It's not the occupation he imagined for the image of a man he's never met before. Falling in love with an author was too romantic, too poetic, too different from his father.

"When will he be back?" Shouto murmurs. Momo counts with her hands.

"The day after Obon."

The festival was five days away. Much too long for his liking, but it did give him time to mentally prepare and have a list of questions readied.

"Until then, what else would you like to know?" Her eyes glimmer like the stars up above them. Shouto's grip on the rope nearly loosens.

He clears his throat. "What kind of books does he write?"

"All kinds, actually. From adventure to mystery, my father has tried them all. But his first novel is a love story, _Setsumi_ —"

"Wait, Setsumi?"

She tilts her head at his open-mouthed disbelief. It's a new look. "Yes. He says it's based on a true story, but that's all I really know."

"That's my mother's name," Shouto mumbles, astonished. He can practically hear the gears whir to life inside Momo's head.

"Then that means, the novel _Setsumi_ is based off of my father's first love," Momo deduces confidently. Shouto can only nod his head at her assumption, having no basis of argument. "Have you read it?"

"No," Shouto admits honestly. He's not one for love.

Momo claps her hands together excitedly. "Then we can read it together. Here."

"Here?"

"Every night at this time. Until the day my father returns, let's meet here and uncover the truth about our parents' past," Momo proposes. Her fists are clenched together with excitement. It's contagious.

Any doubts that linger are shooed away by her wholesome smile. He finds himself saying, "Okay."

"'One life, one encounter'. It means that every encounter is a once-in-a-lifetime encounter," the black-haired girl explains cheerfully. "Though my first impression of you wasn't favorable, this is probably the most exciting thing that's happened to me. This is almost like—like a mystery…"

"A mystery that's been waiting to be solved," Shouto finishes for her. "'It's the unknown that draws people'."

Her eyes widen at his sudden input. He is surprisingly well-read, as harsh as that sounds. His gloominess didn't serve as the best first impression, after all. With a shaky breath, she breathes, "Where's that from?"

" _Brushstrokes of a Gadfly_ ," Shouto answers smoothly. Though he says he's not interested in romance, it doesn't stop his sister from recommending such books to him.

Momo laughs. He's like a matryoshka doll, and the more figures she uncovers to reach his core, the more she's becoming intrigued by Shouto Not-Really-Yukimura-Todoroki.

"Momo! It's time to come back in!" she hears her mother call out. The black-haired girl gives Shouto a rueful smile.

"I'll see you tomorrow?"

The question dangles in the air, hopeful. And suddenly, the daunting request that ate at his conscience didn't seem so scary anymore. Someone else is there to help shoulder the burden.

"Tomorrow."

The nightmares don't haunt him tonight.

* * *

 _Author's Note: OC's ended up taking over Shouto's family whoops. I don't even know if I should include the Dabi theory since it's technically not canon yet but when has the ever stopped me.  
Koji = second oldest Todoroki  
Kouji = Precious, sweet, soft-spoken bab of 1A_


	4. She Wishes For Your Strength

_**Do you believe in love at first sight, or should I walk by again?**_

* * *

On the third day of his countryside get away, Baba asks him, "Have you called home yet?"

Shouto pauses, spoon raised to his mouth. Lowering it back down to the bowl of miso soup on the table, he lifts his eyes up to the ceiling and thinks.

'Home' is a funny word. By definition, it's simply a place where one lives. But in literature, homes are symbolized as protected spaces that serve as shelters from the outside world.

The city of Kannami, with its lazy atmosphere and greenery, has proven to be a better home than the empty estate he'd grown up in.

"No," Shouto finally answers. He closes his eyes, wrinkles appearing on his forehead as he scrunches his face in deep thought. "Should I?"

Baba stops wiping down the table with a piece of cloth to observe her grandson. She doesn't know the details regarding his life back in Shizuoka. Enji had cut her off years ago, using his influence and power to isolate her daughter and grandchildren. But she knows enough to pick up on the white-and-red-haired teen's hesitance.

"You don't have to if you don't want, Shou-chan," Baba reassures him. The creases disappear, and he opens his eyes to see her gentle smile. For a brief moment, he had forgotten that here, he can make his own choices.

Yet, it isn't a question of his own desire. It's a question of whether anyone actually cared enough about his lack of presence in the mansion.

The Todoroki abode is constantly in motion. So long as they stated where they were headed and the duration of their leave, bodies continuously entered in and out the house. Although his father is strict on him, Shouto has watched his siblings disappear into the outside world and return countless times with jealousy.

There was no need for 'check-ups', for calling 'just to make sure you're okay', for sharing 'what I've done today'.

"They know where I am."

"That's not the point of making a call, Shou-chan," his grandmother teases, flicking specks of water to his face. Shouto jerks backwards and fights the urge to glare at Baba for laughing. "It's to make sure they don't miss you too much."

Shouto opens his mouth to retort, but the argument dies down in his throat.

Did anyone miss him? Enji—he didn't even bother wondering about his father. Isamu is probably busy preparing to present his new proposal to the committee, and Koji's probably too occupied with the new game he bought, leaving only sister for consideration.

Though, talking with Fuyumi didn't sound like a terrible idea. This is the longest he's gone without seeing her in person.

"Alright," Shouto concedes. He fiddles with the phone in his pocket. "I'll call."

While he's resolved to contact home, he finds his finger hovering over the green phone icon. It's not often that he uses this feature; in fact, his contacts page is barren save for his family.

All it took was one action, one touch, but he's strangely hesitant over this simple task.

Every ring makes him grow even more nervous. It's ridiculous, because Shouto Todoroki does not get nervous. But here he is, anxious over something so trivial it makes him nearly laugh for being so pathetic.

He holds his breathe when the other side picks up.

"Hello?"

The familiar voice makes his tense body relax.

"Fuyumi, it's me."

"Shouto?!" his sister gasps in a higher-pitch than he's accustomed to. He could envision her expression: hand covering her mouth and eyes wide open. The same expression she'd display when Enji brought home sweets meant only for her. "Did… Did something happen?"

The teen chuckles at her question. Leave it to Fuyumi to assume the worst when he does something unusual.

"Grandmother suggested I call home," he starts. Baba makes noise in her throat expressing her distaste at him for not using her nickname. His fingers play with a loose thread on his uncle's borrowed shorts.

Softly, he asks, "Am I bothering you?"

"No! You know my line is always open for you," Fuyumi quickly encourages.

It is true: for all of Shouto's major achievements, Fuyumi is the always first to show and congratulate him. He could always rely on his sister to take his side and mollify their father's rage when it grew out of control. With his mother gone, she became the matriarchal pillar that supported their family's unsteady foundation.

"I guess I'm just a pleasantly surprised. You hardly use your phone to contact others, you know?"

Her words ring painfully true. He used the device to segregate himself from others, checking on the screen to appear busy or distracted to avoid conversation. Now, he's doing the opposite, and he discovers this isn't all too bad either.

He's found out a lot of things from his brief time here that's reshaped his beliefs.

"I'm glad you called though. Things were getting a little lonely without you," Fuyumi confesses. She giggles, and Shouto presses the phone closer to his ear, imagining her next to him instead of a couple dozen miles away.

His unease dissipates.

He's not talkative, but it hardly ever bothers his sister. She's used to filling in empty spaces with conversation. It's a trait that he didn't pay much attention to before, but now he finds himself envious of her communications skills.

"Tell me, how is it out there, Shouto? Are you having fun? It must be so different from our house."

Shouto takes a deep breath before painting Kannami with his words for her to see. He describes the verdant valleys, tall trees, colorful crops, and hospitable homes in incredible detail. After listing all the people he's met, he hears heavy silence on the other side.

"Fuyumi? Is something the matter?" he questions, suddenly growing worried that their father had walked in. It is highly unlikely, but it isn't an impossible thought.

"…I'm glad," she finally says with a choked sob. Her voice is filled with relief. "I thought you wouldn't enjoy going, especially because of what's happened before, but I'm glad I was wrong."

He nods his head, though she can't see it, and thinks to himself, _I am too._

"I'm so proud of you, Shouto. Out of all four of us, you're the bravest for standing up to Father," Fuyumi tells him. He gulps; he couldn't have done it without her. He wanted to say:

"Thanks for all the years of self-sacrifice" or,

"Thanks for being by my side when no one else was" or,

"Thanks for everything."

They're all statements that he's only thought about telling her because he couldn't find the courage to do so. At least, not with his emotionally-stunted self.

So instead, all he can say is a simple, "Thanks."

She hums in response, chatting idly about her plans for the day until she realizes the time.

"Oh, right, I should be going. I still have to go teach the afternoon classes today," Fuyumi hurriedly explains. He can hear her shuffling paper around. "I'll talk to you later, Shouto."

He mulls over on how to part with his sister. It'd be shame to simply leave off on a simple good-bye. Thus, he mentally prepares himself, reciting the three words over and over in his head until he's sure he can voice them aloud.

Shouto taps on his leg four times before quietly whispering, "Bye." A breath. "I l-love you."

He's angry at himself for stuttering, but it's an unfamiliar statement that he hardly gets a chance to say. The last time he probably said it was before the burn incident, nearly thirteen years ago.

On the other side, he can hear clamoring that faintly sounds like a pen being dropped onto the floor before Fuyumi begins sobbing profusely. It sends him into panic mode.

"Sorry, did I—" Though he tries to rectify his profession, he's interrupted halfway.

"No, no, no. It's not your fault," Fuyumi wails. He's fanning himself with his free hand because the room suddenly got much hotter. "I'm just so happy right now!"

The white-and-red-haired teen gives his sister a few moments to compose herself before reminding her, "Shouldn't you be getting ready for you class?"

"Right! That's what I should be doing!" Fuyumi cries out. It didn't take a genius to figure that she's wiping the tears from her face with her hands because of her muffled voice. "Bye Shouto!"

This time, she really does hang up. Shouto lowers the phone down from his ear, staring at the dark screen in front of him. He hadn't meant to say the last three words to his sister, but he'd been certainly thinking about it for the longest time. When the opportunity arose, he took it, and the result made his heart feel fuzzy.

Fubuki lets out a low whistle from behind. Shouto turns his head, eyes open wide and wild like he's been caught doing something illicit.

"Kid, I can feel the awkward all the way from my room," his uncle laughs. Shouto narrows his eyes before standing and stalking off to help his grandmother outside and get away from the Cheshire grin Fubuki sends him.

He and his uncle definitely **cannot** get along.

* * *

In the evening, when he meets with the black-haired girl, she brings more than just the book. Momo sits atop a red-and-white checkered blanket with a thermos and a container of rice crackers. Their source of light is an electric lantern.

From their two meetings, he can already surmise that she's the type to have everything planned and ready. The type that he can't get along with well given his leaning towards the spontaneous side of things.

He shifts his weight over to his right leg and swings himself up until he reaches the dark, metal fencing to plop himself down on stable ground. The grass growing beneath him serves as a make-shift cushion.

"You're here," she states, eyes filled with wonder. By her surprise to see him, he guesses that she didn't quite believe him when he said he would come back. He quirks an eyebrow at her.

"I don't break promises."

She stares at him, carefully studying his movements and dimly lit expression before straightening her back. It's as if she was searching for something in him and is pleased with the answer she's found, if the slight curve upwards at the corners of her lips serves as an indication.

Momo offers him a cup of steaming liquid from the thermos. "I hope you don't mind Harrods, but that's the type of tea everyone prefers so—"

"I don't need it," he tells her. Then, realizing how much harsher it sounds than he meant, he corrects, "I'm not really a tea person."

And it is the truth. If he had to choose between tea and coffee, he would much prefer the later. Still, that doesn't stop the frown from marring the girl's face, and an odd twinge in his heart makes him feel like he's made a grave mistake.

"Oh, I see," she mumbles. It reminds him of a beaten puppy. Momo quickly recomposes herself, and he admires her poise. "That aside, how about some rice crackers?"

Shouto can tell that she's been ingrained with courtesy and manners. So as to not embarrass her any further, he acquiesced her offer and gingerly took the smallest one, careful not to let it touch the metal bars. His hand is just small enough to fit through the spaces of the barricade separating them.

"Thanks."

"My pleasure," she beams. It's frustratingly sincere, so he bites into the snack with a loud snap, ignoring how his heart speeds up just a little. Momo smooths down her shirt, and his attention is brought to small book on her lap.

It's thin, doesn't look like it even has a hundred pages to it. The cover is powder blue with shimmery silver snowflakes, the title Setsumi written in fancy gold lettering. There's a stamp at the front, the words 'Bungei Prize' in the middle.

"It won an award," he observes, impressed. To think that a novel that starred his mother held so much prestige. He's astounded that he didn't even know of its existence until the night before.

"Amazing, isn't it? My father claims it's self-indulgent, but there's a surprising amount of people who empathized with the story," Momo discloses, an unreadable smile on her face. He glances at her from the corner of his eyes but doesn't say anything.

Maybe they're both troubled by their fathers in ways the other can't understand. Still, he can't help himself from wishing for anyone else but Enji.

With no other filler to distract them, she opens the book and begins to read the first lines.

"'I met her on the first day of freshly fallen snow'," she starts off with an engaging reading voice.

Suddenly, they're transported out of the August evening and into a December morning.

He sees his mother in the eyes of Nobuyuki Yaoyorozu, from the long, white locks that cascade down her back like an avalanche to the bright, metallic gray shade of her irises. In the story, she's thirteen years old when they first meet.

For him, it had been love at first sight, but the four-year age difference relegated Nobuyuki into the little brother position.

It's odd, because Shouto doesn't realize how long Momo has been reading until she closes the book and regards him with expecting eyes. She's waiting for his input.

"That's all we're going to read today?" he finds himself asking. The session had been calming, and he didn't mind if it went on for longer. In fact, the first dozen pages didn't answer any of the questions he had swirling in his mind.

Her thumb flips through the book. "I've split it up into five even parts. I understand your haste, but how about we first go over with what we've read thus far?"

It's not a bad idea, if there had been more substance to the story.

"All he wrote about was their first meeting," Shouto huffs, crossing his arms together with closed eyes. He opens them to stare pointedly at the small piece of literature. Though poetic, he really didn't need to read five pages about his mother's looks. He inherited half her genes after all.

Momo purses her lips together at the comment. "The author captures the purity of love at first sight beautifully. From the thrill of accidentally stumbling into her to the butterflies in his stomach once he finds himself enraptured by her physical appearance—"

"He found my mother attractive," Shouto cuts in dully. Momo puffs her cheeks out indignantly, and he forces his hands down to his sides to prevent himself from reaching out and poking them back in. They look unreasonably soft.

"In simple terms, yes, but love runs deeper than that," the girl argues.

It's ridiculous, he knows, childish even. Despite his better judgment, he can't help but attempt to disprove her stance on the subject matter.

He counters, "You can't fall in love without getting to know a person."

She slams her hands on the floor with a fervid look in her eyes. "But you **can**."

"How?" Shouto challenges. Momo opens her mouth a couple of times, peeping a disgruntled noise when she can't form proper sentences to explain her thoughts. He thinks he's won, but the girl surprises him with her unrelenting tenacity.

"It's inexplicable, but it most definitely exists," she asserts confidently. He casts her one last long look before allowing their small altercation to evaporate.

She notices the look, of course.

"You know, even Shakespeare once said, 'Who ever loved that loved not at first sight?' in _As You Like It_. Act 3, Scene 5."

"Shakespeare also had an affair."

"That's beside the point," Momo waves off. Shouto resists the urge to roll his eyes at her stubbornness.

"'The heart dies a slow death, shedding each hope like leaves until one day there are none. No hopes. Nothing remains'," Shouto recites. He meets her open-mouthed gawking with a small smirk. " _Memoirs of a Geisha_. That's what happens when you buy into love at first sight."

Blowing her bangs out of her face, she faintly grumbles, "Just wait until you experience it."

To any other, it'd be a normal occurence, because all humans are capable of being in love and being loved.

Not Shouto. He's sworn off of falling because he's seen how it destroys people. From his mother to Isamu, Shouto won't allow himself to become a victim of a bothersome emotion.

"I won't," he replies dryly. Shouto leans back to stare at the stars up above. The idea of space and beyond is much more interesting than love.

His answer doesn't sit well with the idealistic girl. "You will."

"No, I won't."

"That's statistically improbable given the amount of people you'll meet in a lifetime."

He snorts at her retort. "You're bringing math into this?"

"I'm pretty confident with my arithmetic," she says, puffing her chest out with pride. "I'm number one in my class."

 _In high school_ , Shouto thinks but doesn't say out of politeness. Besides, explaining that he received his GED at the mere age of 15 and having a tutor with a PhD in both statistics and abstract algebra is a nightmare.

She takes his silence as a sign of victory.

"It comes at the most unexpected times," she continues, warm flush on her cheeks as she recalls all the stories she's read about it. "Bookstores, coffee shops. Even the most mundane places have the capability."

"Is that so?" he offers to humor her. She nods her head enthusiastically.

"Yes! Why, the novel I've been reading has the two meet as co-workers in a publishing company—"

He's drowned her out with his musings. Her mother's first encounter with Nobuyuki bothered him. In it, the man claims that she saw him as nothing more than a younger brother. So then why had she written his name in the letter if that was all he was? Fubuki is her younger sibling by blood, and his name wasn't mentioned at all.

Shouto doesn't realize how long he's been staring vacantly up at the sky until Momo pulls him back down.

"Shouto-san…? Yukimura-san…?" With slight hesitance, she attempts, "Todoroki-san?"

"Don't call me that," the teen snaps moodily. Momo winces at the sharpness of his tone before apologetically bowing her head down.

"I apologize. I-I meant to only grab your attention," she excuses. His gray eye pokes holes into her.

The air between them grows heavy and cold like a harsh blizzard. Goosebumps prickle her skin, and she unintentionally shivers. Shouto adverts his line of sight to glare at a blade of grass by his foot.

He hates how affected he is by the reminder of his relations to that man.

Despite her better judgment, curiosity gains a tighter hold than common sense. "May I ask why you're so intent on learning more about my father?"

"Haven't I already told you?"

"No, that's not what I mean..."

The teenaged boy tilts his head to the side, not fully understanding her question. She clears her throat, fumbling with the rice cracker in her hand. It crumbles and breaks.

"I mean, you say it's to learn more about your mother, but I'm sure your father…could probably…tell you more?" she finishes uncertainly, unable to meet his eye. From how determined Shouto is to avoid talking about anything involving the Todorokis, she can tell that he and his father aren't on the best terms.

Even then, the man who had married her should surely know more about Setsumi than the man who first fell in love with her.

"He can't," Shouto answers frostily. His hands have inadvertently formed into fists. "And if he can, he won't."

There's a malefic aura that pours out of Shouto's every pore when he spits out the male pronoun. It unnerves her because she's never met someone who held so much contempt for another.

When he realizes his mood is making her uncomfortable, he releases a long sigh. "I should probably start heading back."

"O-Oh! Um, if you'll allow me to say," Momo starts nervously. Shouto leans in closer to hear better. He observes the small bead of sweat sliding down the side of her face. "No, well, this sounds a little…"

"Tell me," Shouto demands. Though they disagree on many things, he still considers her words to be insightful. When she flinches, he softly adds, "Please."

"Right," Momo murmurs, steeling herself. She stares directly into his eye, taking him by surprise. "Whether or not you get the answers you've been looking for, your mother was your mother, and your father is still your father."

Shouto winces like he'd been stabbed: she saw through him. She saw how he had foolishly wished for Nobuyuki Yaoyorozu to take the place of Enji Todoroki. She saw how he had deluded himself into a false reality where he, his mother, and his siblings didn't have to live under Enji's tyranny.

She notes his sullenness and immediately regrets her words. "I apologize—"

"No, you're right," Shouto interjects. He gives her a rueful smile that hurts her even worse than any of his sharp words. "My father is still my father despite it all."

The admission makes him nauseous. It's sickening how his mother had chosen an abusive asshole instead of a man who wrote a novel in his dedication to her. Why she did it is beyond his and Fubuki's realm of understanding.

 _"Be careful," Baba warned him._

Was that the truth she had wanted him to see? To understand?

A gentle touch to his knee jolts him out of his self-induced misery. He blinks the wetness away before facing the ponytailed girl.

"'Wake from death and return to life'," Momo hums tenderly. She pulls her hand away, and it takes all his self-control not to reach out and place it back. The girl offers him a reassuring smile. "I don't know what you've gone through with your father. But, I think—no, I know you'll be able to overcome it."

"How do you know?" He sounds like a lost child.

Momo folds her hands together neatly on her lap. Her fingers are delicately beautiful, Shouto notes. "It's just a feeling I have."

He gives her a teasing smirk. "What's the statistical probability on this one?"

She grins, and he tries to ignore the way his heart hammers at the sight.

"About as high as you falling in love."

He fails.

* * *

 _Happy New Years :)_


	5. She Wishes For Your Confidence

**The best people all have some kind of scar.**

(-Kierra Cass, "The One")

* * *

Shouto is washing the latest harvest of strawberries when he feels a small thump on the back of his head. His hands fly out to catch the perpetrator, and he turns around to glare at his grinning uncle. For a man well over the age of fifty, Fubuki acts like a child more often than not.

"You got a guest, kid," Fubuki reports. Shouto loosens his grip before standing and wiping his hands with a towel. As he passes by his uncle, he faintly hears something about 'pretty girl' and 'can't believe he managed that'. He smooths down his shirt and prepares to greet Izuku at the door.

Except, it's not a green-haired boy standing at the entrance but a ponytailed lady.

"I apologize for the sudden visit," Momo murmurs, bowing her head. Shouto shuffles his feet awkwardly against the flooring, stepping closer with his hands in his pockets. Her voice is quivering. "I won't be staying long."

"It's fine."

She gives him a small smile, though it doesn't dissipate the tension between them. Despite their nightly meeting, he finds himself unable to keep calm around her. His eyes stay on everything except her face. It doesn't take long for him to notice the small red box in her hands, a silver ribbon tied neatly at the top.

"You brought something?" Shouto wonders aloud. He's pegged her as the type of person to follow traditions, but bringing a present over to a brief home visit is too much. Momo releases a breathy giggle that knocks the wind out of his lungs.

"Don't worry, it's empty."

That only adds to the mystery.

He squints at it suspiciously before inquiring, "What is it?"

Momo fiddles with the silver ribbon between her forefinger and thumb. Her lips are pursed, as if she's debating with something inside her head. She's careful with her words and manners, and Shouto's not the type to prod and rush.

Tentatively, she starts, "I found it in my father's study. Mother said it's an old present from his past, so I assumed that it related back to…"

"My mother," Shouto finishes. He runs a hand through his hair and catches her staring. When their eyes meet, Momo looks away with a small flush, as if she had been caught doing something rude. He tilts his head at her reaction. "What's wrong?"

She struggles to say, "Your eyes… It's called heterochromia iridis, isn't it?"

The fact that he isn't wearing his eyepatch is brought to his attention, but instead of instinctively covering his scar, he finds himself simply nodding. Somehow, her seeing the grotesque blemish doesn't make Shouto anxious or irritated. After all, he's exposed more embarrassing sides to be worried about her being disgusted with him now (and he doubts she's the type to judge based off of appearances).

"Yeah. The right is gray like my mother's, and the left is…"

He can't bring himself to finish his sentence.

Momo makes a soft noise of understanding inside her throat. The air between them grows hot and heavy, which Shouto blames on the weather outside. He can feel the sweat forming on the back of his neck.

However, the black-haired girl is strangely quiet, which is odd because a spontaneous visit from her is highly unlikely: she must have a purpose for this trip.

"Does the scar make you uncomfortable?" he questions, wondering if that's the cause of her aversion for conversing. She quickly shakes her head.

"Oh, no. I wasn't thinking about that at all," Momo reassures him. Her stiff disposition does not ease his suspicions, so he decides to confront her about it. Shouto's not the type to beat around the bush.

"Then, what are you thinking about?"

Her fingers twitch at his inquiry. The ribbon is getting frayed at the very tips with her constant rubbing. Was he being too forward? Too invasive? She seems to be struggling to voice her thoughts out.

Yet, he waits because he values her input.

Softly, she whispers, "…Pretty…"

"Huh?"

"Your eyes," Momo clarifies. Shouto blinks. "Your eyes are very…pretty."

He's completely blindsided by her once again.

"Ah…"

Suddenly, the jitteriness jumps onto him, and he feels his throat closing at her compliment. Behind a closed door, he can faintly hear Fubuki's howling laughter and feels the tips of his ears growing hotter by the second.

The best course of action is to divert the conversation topic.

"The red box," he croaks out. He hates the crack in his voice. "How is it related to my mother?"

Momo perks up at the mention of the item in her arms. "Shouto-san, are you familiar with the holiday called 'White Day'?"

Shouto furrows his eyebrows. People gave colors to days? She takes his troubled look as a 'no'.

"It's exactly one month after Valentine's Day. The National Confectionery Industry Association started the tradition as an 'answer day' where men give back a present to the women who gave them gifts on Valentine's—"

"Yaoyorozu," he interjects. Izuku, Momo, Tenya—if he didn't stop them early, they could talk his ears off. Her eyes are sparkling throughout her explanation. She clears her throat to regain her composure, a pink tinge on her cheeks.

"Ah…my apologies. Returning to the topic at hand, I believe that your mother may have given this to my father. Though it's usually males who offer something, it's not unheard of for women to give an 'answer' during this day too," Momo elucidates.

(Briefly, Shouto is reminded of a time when Fuyumi roped him to cook chocolate with her at midnight for her friends at school. When his father found out, Enji was very, **very** displeased.)

She points to the letters at the side before handing the empty box over. "Perhaps you can learn more by visiting the Sato Bakery."

He considers her words carefully. What were his mother's intentions when she gave Nobuyuki Yaoyorozu the box of sweets? The more he learns about the woman, the more her past becomes clouded by an untraversable fog.

Momo fidgets at his prolonged reticence. "Was this not of any significance to you?"

"…No, this has been useful. Thanks," Shouto answers honestly. She beams because of his rare showing of gratitude. It does weird things to his stomach, though Shouto attributes the fluttery feeling to the peculiar, candied potatoes his uncle gave him earlier.

"Well, that's all for now," Momo announces. She brushes back her bangs away from her face, and Shouto watches the long locks fall perfectly just behind her ears in fascination. Misinterpreting his gaze as a prompt to expand on her statement, she says, "Kyouka must be growing anxious. I promised to go shopping with her today."

He shifts his line of sight down at his feet when he realizes just how long he'd been gawking.

"You're not coming with me?"

Momo blinks at the unexpected invitation. "Oh, I apologize. I had prior plans arranged before coming because I had assumed that this is something you preferred doing alone."

It's a fair assessment of his personality. In fact, had it been him three days prior, he'd have leapt at the chance of solving things by himself. However, she had become a sort of partner in this operation to learn more about his mother's past. This odd feeling of loneliness is unfamiliar and throws him off-guard.

Shouto digs his nails into the palm of his hands, shaking off the negative emotions that swarm him like blood-hungry mosquitoes. He is **not** a needy child; he can do this with or without her.

"Yeah… I'll do it by myself," he grits out. Shouto retains a stoic expression, though his mental state resembled murky water: even he did not know what lay underneath the surface (and he isn't sure he'd like the answer if he dived in deep).

"Then, I'll be seeing you tonight," Momo exclaims, waving her hand goodbye before disappearing through the front door. He watches her silhouette vanish down the road from a window.

She didn't even look back at him…

Shouto scowls, running a hand through his hair. Why is he feeling like this towards her? Momo has no obligations to help him, and yet here he is, being ungrateful because she didn't have time in her busy schedule to pen him in.

It's unreasonable, he's being unreasonable—and yet, he can't help but feel betrayed.

"Kid, you're going to need plenty of help with this one," Fubuki pesters. Shouto snaps out of his daze to glare at the older man. He brushes off the arm that his uncle loops around his shoulders.

"What do you mean?" he asks with a huff. Breathe in; breathe out. Just like his psychologist advised.

Fubuki waggles a finger in front of the teenaged boy like an owner refusing to give their pet a treat. "She's obviously out of your league."

"My league?" Shouto echoes dubiously. His head tries to understand his uncle's words using all definitions of the term, but he's unable to do so. "What's my league?"

Fubuki groans as he burrows his head in his hands. Teasing his nephew will result in a blood clot one day, he's sure of it. "Just… Grow some social awareness, won't you?"

Shouto reluctantly nods his head. If he can learn about string theory and corporate jargon at the age of fifteen, he can certainly do whatever it is his uncle requests. And maybe, he can finally understand the unsettling sentiments streaming inside as well.

When Shouto begins his journey over towards the Sato Bakery, he remembers his first day in Kannami. Talking with Izuku and Tenya was fun; walking in silence is not. His emotional growth spurt is unanticipated, startling—and wonderful.

When people look his way and make eye contact, Shouto offers a small nod in acknowledgement instead of looking away and ignoring their existence.

When he's forgotten the way towards the store, he doesn't hesitate to ask strangers instead of marching ambiguously in circles in futile attempts to reach his destination.

His phone rests in his pockets, unattended.

Shouto stops in front of a glass window. The last time he came here, he didn't have a chance to properly inspect the venue given his boisterous encounter with Katsuki and his group. There are shelves upon shelves of traditional Japanese confectionary.

(He takes a moment to snap a picture and send it to Fuyumi later.)

A bell rings when he passes through the door, signaling his arrival.

Shouto recognizes the tall boy standing by the cashier as Kouji Kouda, the silent giant. He looks disgruntled, eyes quivering as the woman behind the register taps on the counter, irritated.

"So, what is it that you want?" she grouches. Her patience has worn thin after a long morning shift, and poor Kouji's lack of communication skills isn't helping her mood.

The burly teen tries to point towards his desired goods, but his efforts aren't well received by the woman.

It is easy for Shouto to sit back and watch the altercation end in Kouji's unsuccessful attempts at ordering. It is easy for Shouto not to butt his head in and come to the tall boy's rescue. It is what he's used to doing for eighteen years.

"He wants the green-tea flavored yokan and konpeito," Shouto interrupts. Kouji jumps at the sound of the white-and-red-haired boy's voice, staring wide-eyed at his unforeseen participation. Shouto glances over. "Right?"

Kouji fervently nods his head in affirmation. The woman releases a long sigh, ringing up the order. Exhausted, she asks, "Is that going to be it?"

Shouto glances over at the gentle giant who has his attention set on the mochi. "An order of matcha manju too."

The silent male holds up two fingers.

"Make that two orders."

Casting one, final look of disbelief at the two, the woman inputs all the sweets and gives Kouji his receipt. "Your order will be out in a few minutes."

She disappears towards the back, leaving Shouto and Kouji to their own devices. Kouji begins poking his forefingers together shyly, unsure on how to approach the city boy. He does not do well with new people, especially without his friends around. Meanwhile, the white-and-red-haired teen stares pointedly at the selection of higashi.

(Would Momo enjoy it with her tea?)

"U-Um… Thank you," a quiet, meek voice says just a hair above a whisper. Shouto bats his eyelids before staring at Kouji curiously.

"You can talk," Shouto deadpans. Kouji's cheeks flush pink, but he humbly nods his head. It's like discovering your favorite book had a sequel all along—unanticipated, but welcome. "Why didn't you speak up?"

Kouji squirms, and Shouto nearly apologizes for coming off as aggressive with his choice of words. But to his surprise, the lanky teen tells him, "My voice is weird, isn't it?"

It's soft, gentle, and not-at-all bizarre that such a voice is possessed by the kind Kouji.

"No, it's not."

Genuine—Kouji is shocked by the sincerity behind Shouto's answer. Although the white-and-red-haired male is tight-lipped and has an air of dissociation that flares from time to time, the newcomer to Kannami is painstakingly honest.

But shyness built up by years and years of self-consciousness is hard to erase.

"You're just saying that," Kouji dismisses. He's seen the odd looks people send his way when he speaks, can read their eyes that say, 'your voice and appearance don't match'. This isn't something that Kouji cannot change: he was born like this whether he liked it or not.

And on some days, when things get particularly bad and his social anxiety reaches an all-time high, he wishes that he wasn't born at all.

"I don't say things lightheartedly," Shouto retorts. Kouji bites his bottom lip. He knows that Shouto's not the type to carelessly throw words around. He knows that his situation is a result of his own low self-confidence and taking it out on others is selfish. He knows, he knows, he **knows**.

But Kouji can't resist blurting, "You're only saying that because you don't understand."

There's a thin ice between them, but it cracks, crumbles, melts, and Shouto stares in amazement at the sudden zeal that envelops the normally noiseless male.

"You don't understand what it's like to be judged because of your appearance."

His left eye underneath his eyepatch itches.

"You don't understand what it's like to be chained down by circumstances you can't change."

The blood coursing through his veins do not agree.

"You don't understand because you're… You're good-looking. You're blessed."

By the time Kouji finishes his rant, he's breathing heavily like he just finished running a marathon. Overtaken by a rare flare of jealousy, shame replaces envy, and Kouji can't bring himself to face the stoic boy after his tirade.

Words don't come easily to Shouto. He's not the type of person to sway people simply by talking, he's not good with fluff or flowers, he's not good at communication. But his strength lies in unwavering confidence and the ability to fearlessly get his thoughts across no matter how abrasive it comes off.

His thoughts fly back to a conversation he once had with his father.

 _"Words mean nothing in this world, Shouto," Enji told his son. Shouto eyed the imposing man warily. A pair of burning blue eyes surveyed the crowd of reporters behind a glass wall. "They hold no meaning."_

 _"Is that why you said yes to the interview?" the son sarcastically replied. Enji clenched his fist: Shouto was becoming more and more unreasonable as the years passed by. His secretary attributed it to hormones, so Enji hoped this phase passed by quickly._

 _"…Actions," Enji grumbled. "Until there are actions behind them, words are forgettable. A waste of breath."_

 _Shouto had no snappy comeback. For once, he respects his father's guidance._

Slowly, his hand rises to the piece of cloth covering half his face. Fingers grasp at the band that attaches the eyepatch to his face and gingerly removes the accessory. It takes a while for his eye to adjust at the change of lightning, so he blinks vigorously for comfort.

When his pupils steady, Shouto comes to the realization that the world is brighter than he expected.

"I'm not as blessed as you think I am," Shouto reveals. Kouji's hand shoots up to cover his gaping mouth. "But you reminded me something I'd forgotten about."

A small smile appears on Shouto's face as he grips the fabric in his hands.

"Born with a silver spoon, luck—that doesn't matter as much as having confidence," Shouto advises. There's a certain air of self-assurance that sweeps Kouji off his feet and forces him to follow along with the other boy's train of thought. "Voice, appearance, you shouldn't let those things detract from your character."

Kouji mulls over Shouto's encouragement for a while. In that space of silence, the worker returns with the bag of sweets.

"Here you go. Be sure to refrigerate when you get home," the woman recommends. Kouji gingerly takes the bag in his arms, cradling it like a baby.

Quietly, he mumbles, "T-Thank you…" Turning to Shouto, Kouji bows his head. "And thank you, Shouto-san!"

"Call me Shouto."

Kouji beams before stumbling out of the store, chipper. The woman behind the counter's jaw drops at what just occured.

"He… He could talk?!"

Shouto fumbles with the package. "Can you assist me with something?"

"Huh? Oh yeah, sure," the woman gasps. Shouto places the worn box on the table. "Woah, this is vintage packaging!"

Considering that it could well over be twice of Shouto's age, the remark does not surprise him.

"What do you know about this box?"

The woman scratches the side of her face. "Listen, I just started working here last year. You're better off asking someone else."

"Who can I get to help?" Shouto demands. She blinks at the sudden increase in volume before eyeing the door behind her.

"I'm not supposed to let customers do this, but you can head to the back and check."

Giving the woman brief thanks, he grabs the box and stalks off through the doors that lead towards the kitchen area. Shouto peers around until he spots a familiar person in the room.

"Sato."

"Woah!" the buff boy screeches, instinctively putting his fists up defensively. Recognizing the newcomer, he breathes a sigh of relief and lowers his arms. "You surprised me, Shouto. How'd you even get here?"

"The woman at the front said I could come in," the boy answers honestly. Rikido wipes his hands, covered in flour, on a towel off towards the side. He quirks an eyebrow up at Shouto's explanation. "I need you to look at something for me."

"Sure! Anything for a friend."

Shouto sets the box down on the table. Rikido immediately moves over to take a closer peek. The lettering on the side says that it's from the bakery, but he's never seen anything like it before. His large hands hover over the package before turning to Shouto, a sparkle in his eyes.

"May I?"

The dual-colored-haired teen nods his head.

Rikido carefully unfurls the ribbon and picks up the cover, gentle setting it down to the side. When he gasps, Shouto jumps up, wondering what shocked the other male. Sheepishly smiling, Rikido points down inside.

"Usually, our boxes have separators that make small squares to put in confectionery," Rikido enlightens. His thumb traces over the small ridges at the bottom. "This looks like something that holds cookies."

"'Cookies'?"

"Baked goods that are small, flat, and sweet. They came from Persia in the 7th century." When he catches Shouto's impressed look, Rikido merely smiles. "I was thinking of enrolling in Tokyo for college, so I figured I had to read up on this."

The stoic boy makes a soft noise of understanding. He focuses back to the matter at hand.

"What's so special about these…'cookies'?"

"Well, for starters, my family's bakery has been serving traditional Japanese sweets ever since my parents took over. Cookies are more of a Western dessert," Rikido discloses. He releases a low whistle as he takes in the golden bordering. "Must've been a pretty special reason for this."

'Special'.

Shouto knows that Nobuyuki Yaoyorozu is a special person to his mother from the get-go. But what he didn't know is how special the man is. What kind of special was he?

"What else?" Shouto prompts. Rikido crosses his arms together, brows furrowed together. After debating for a moment, he gestures for the other teen to follow him out the back and up the stairs where his house is.

"Let's go ask my mom," the brunette suggests. Mrs. Sato is every bit as daunting as her son, but there's an air of class she exudes. It's impressive because her arms are covered in flour all the way up to the elbow.

"Rikido, I thought I told you to help out in the store," Mrs. Sato reprimands. Rikido scoffs at her greeting.

"Good to see you too, Ma." The teen points to Shouto with a thumb. "My new friend brought something interesting to the shop."

"Huh? Oh, welcome," Mrs. Sato says, bowing her head. Shouto replicates the action out of politeness. She gives him a one-over. "Pretty eyes."

The teen blinks at the random compliment. Funny how the first thing people here notice is his eyes instead of the scar that surrounds his blue one. "Thank you."

"Why can't you be well-mannered like him, Rikido?" Mrs. Sato complains. Her son snorts in response. She shakes her head, turning her attention to the guest. "Can you believe that after raising this boy for eighteen years, he wants to run off and leave Kannami?"

"Ma, stop, you're embarrassing me!" Rikido shouts. The tips of his ears have turned red. Mrs. Sato smirks at his reaction.

"Well, you better do your best. I'm not gonna have you put the Sato name to shame."

"I'll make the Sato name known in the cities too, Ma. Just you wait!"

It's different from Izuku and Inko. It's not tender or sweet, but there's still unmistakable love between mother and son. Shouto watches, hands clenching around the box. Rikido notices the teen's growing sullenness and makes a move to change the conversation topic.

"Ma, when's the last time the store made cookies?"

"Do we look like the kind of bakery that makes Western goods?" Mrs. Sato laughs. It dies down when Shouto opens the box. "What the?"

"Same," Rikido whispers over to the white-and-red-haired male. Shouto tries maintaining his poker face, but there are wrinkles appearing on his chin from frowning.

"Where'd you find this?" Mrs. Sato interrogates. Rikido and Shouto exchange looks before the latter replies,

"Yaoyorozu… She came by and gave it to me."

"Nobuyuki's wife?" Shouto shakes his head. "Daughter?" A nod. Mrs. Sato rubs her chin contemplatively. "Huh, weird. If my memory serves me right, the only time we got an order for these things were from the Yukimuras."

Rikido shoots up from his seat. Something inside tells him that he shouldn't be here for the conversation that's about to take place. "I should head back to the store."

Shouto observes the muscular male disappearance before saying, "Setsumi Yukimura is my mother."

Mrs. Sato scrutinizes the white hair and gray eyes. They're trademark characteristics of the family. "Makes sense. She'd always request random desserts from my parents, and they'd always make it for her. She was really popular in town, you know."

Popularity: to be liked, admired, or enjoyed by many people. His father's company's products were popular, but many were ambivalent to the owner. Despite all the success Enji has, Shouto doubts that his father is popular in the business world. Not like his mother here in Kannami at the very least.

"My mother was popular?"

Mrs. Sato giggles. "Oh yeah. You know what boys called her? 'Winter Beauty'." She snickers at all the unfortunate souls who helplessly pined for the woman. "I think the closest guy was Nobuyuki. He'd always been a hopeless romantic since the moment I met him. We were in the same class in high school, and he'd never shut up about her."

A man with endless devotion versus a man who holds no compassion for others. Shouto wonders how the latter won out in the end.

He stares at the empty box in his hands. It feels heavier now. "Was Nobuyuki special to my mother?"

"Ah… Maybe? It was hard to understand her. Your mother wasn't very expressive," Mrs. Sato remarks. That trait must have been passed down to Shouto. "But if there's one thing I know for sure, your mother must have really loved your father to follow him all the way to Shizuoka."

There it is again: 'love'.

Was love the type of emotion that confines the receiver in a hopeless situation that results in death? Was love the type to leave bruises and wounds? Was love an emotion that is so volatile, it teetered to the brink of insanity?

If that is love, then Shouto wants none of it.

"It was a mistake," Shouto asserts. Mrs. Sato stares at him for a second before shaking her head. It is patronizing, like she knows something that he doesn't when he's sure that he's probably more educated than her.

"I don't think someone as young as you can understand your mother's choice," Mrs. Sato says in the nicest way possible. It does not make him feel better.

"If I was older, would I understand then?" Somehow, he doubts that he can ever.

Mrs. Sato laughs at his naivety. "You'd have better luck learning about love in general, sweetie."

For a patisserie, she is awfully good out souring his mood. He declines her offer to stay for dinner and trudges back to his grandmother's house.

'Love', huh? He'd have to ask Momo about it later.

Baba greets him with a concerned look. "Did something bad happen to you?"

Shouto pauses, setting down the box by his feet as he takes off his shoes. He considers telling his grandmother about the events that transpired in the afternoon. He considers telling her about his progress towards uncovering the truth between Nobuyuki and his mother.

But the timing is not right.

"Yeah," Shouto murmurs. He does his best to give her a reassuring smile, which is simply a quirk of one side of his mouth. "But it's okay. I'm fine."

Baba opens her mouth before closing it quickly. Instead of pestering him to share more, she simply wraps her arms around his waist and hugs him. This time, Shouto returns the gesture. Hesitantly, he rests his arms on her shoulder.

What is the proper procedure for hugging? How long should it last? Where should his arms be? How hard should his grip be? Thankfully for the socially-inept boy, his grandmother pulls away first.

(He finds that he quite likes the physical contact and would not mind receiving another.)

"Let's have dinner, shall we?" Baba advocates. Shouto nods his head and follows her to the dining table. After helping the older woman put away the dishes and ignoring Fubuki's insults on his dish-washing technique, Shouto slips away into the garden, empty package in one hand and a bag of sweets in the other.

When he offers some crumbled higashi to Momo upon their meeting, she graciously accepts the gift, not at all phased by the broken pieces.

"What's the occasion?" Momo teasingly inquires. She takes a piece and nibbles at it, taking a sip of her tea afterwards. They pair up quite nicely.

Shouto scoffs. "I was at the bakery earlier."

She slowly lowers the treat down. He can tell she's nervous by the way she continuously brushes her hair back.

"Is that so?" Timidly, she asks, "Did you learn something useful?"

The frown on his face answers her question clearly. Before she can apologize, however, he gestures to the book in her possession. "I have a question to ask you after we read the next part."

"Me?!" Momo squeaks. Shouto tilts his head at her unabashed astonishment.

"Am I not allowed to?"

Momo quickly shakes her head. "N-No. I'm just… I thought you were only interested in learning about my father."

"I am," Shouto declares. She blinks before releasing a shaky laugh. Her cheeks blossom crimson. He rests his head against the fencing, scanning her face that's covered in embarrassment. "But, you're interesting too."

He's fascinated by how the blush creeps all the way down to her neck.

"Oh my… Jirou was right about you," Momo mumbles softly, adverting her eyes off to the side. Her hands are fanning her face to cool down. Shouto tilts his head because he couldn't hear her.

"Yaoyorozu, what are you mumbling about?"

"N-Nothing!" the girl quickly dismisses. By the way she is playing with her hair, he's surprised that no strand has fallen out yet. "Let's get started, shall we?"

He's not opposed to her suggestion. Shouto inhales inaudibly, relaxing his body and closing his eyes to focus better on the story. Her fingers brush against the edges of the page, and she clears her throat before beginning.

"'She's difficult to understand, like traversing through a howling blizzard.'"

Once again, Shouto finds himself in Nobuyuki's shoes.

Four years, at first glance, doesn't seem long. But to an elementary school child pining for a girl in middle school, the difference in age is magnified times a thousand. Four years made Nobuyuki feel like a baby compared to her growing maturity.

There's a sense of hopelessness from Nobuyuki. His opponents vying for Setsumi's affection were older, taller, wiser. While he only had the pleasure of seeing her occasionally around town, they were blessed with the opportunity of attending the same classes, the same clubs, the same events. With every advancement that Nobuyuki took to deepend his relationship with Setsumi, it seemed as if his opponents took three times as many.

And yet, the man never lost hope.

Every word that Setsumi spoke was embedded in his mind, carefully examined until the late hours of the subsequent evening. Every smile sent his way was ingrained in his heart. Every instance of brief touches, from accidentally brushing shoulders to her patting his head, left a tingling sensation that warmed his body no matter the weather.

This went on for years and years, and Shouto secretly applauds the man for his tenacity.

His eyelids flutter open when he hears Momo shut the book close.

"It's embarrassing to say, but my father's quite the hopeless romantic," Momo giggles. Shouto hums in agreement. Nobuyuki is the complete opposite of Enji.

He pulls at blades of grass on the ground. "Can I ask you that question now?"

Momo swallows thickly. "Do you not want to discuss what we've read over?"

"That's just it. I don't understand why your father would do so much for my mother. I don't understand why my mother wouldn't stay in Kannami to be with him," Shouto admits. A part of him had thought it would be easy to grasp the complex emotion, but he'd been proven wrong by a book of all things.

Although it makes him feel inadequate, he recognizes when he needs help, so he turns to the one person who he believes can explain it to him best.

"'A journey of a thousand miles begins with the first step'. It's good that you've come to accept its existence," Momo says in a matter-of-fact tone. Shouto snorts.

"I believe in love, but not love-at-first-sight."

She chooses to ignore his comment, placing a finger to her chin. It's a habit she picked up from Tsuyu. "It's complicated to explain, but let's start from the beginning. What is your definition of love?"

Shouto recites textbook definition, "An intense feeling of deep affection."

Momo shakes her head. "Shouto-san, that's such a vague description. You have to expand on it."

She sounds like Fuyumi when she chastises him. He tries again. "A deep romantic or sexual attachment to someone."

"Ah, well, I suppose…" Momo murmurs, warm flush on her cheeks.

Still, she doesn't seem satisfied with his answers, so he challenges, "What do you think love is?"

"Love is the force that pushes you wake up every morning with a smile on your face. Love is placing someone else's happiness and well-being before your own." There a faraway look in her eyes as she divulges in her beliefs. Shouto watches the glimmer in her eyes brighten, her smile softening, and the way her hands gesticulate. "…Ah! I apologize for getting carried away."

"It's fine," he murmurs. Shouto doesn't mind her getting lost in her thoughts: it's an endearing trait.

Momo rubs her forearms agitatedly. "Have you ever felt that way?"

Shouto purses his lips together. "I care about my sister—"

"No, no, that's familial love," Momo interjects. She folds her hands together. "Or, at least I hope it is."

He glares at her attempt at humor. Momo returns it with laugh, and it takes all Shouto's willpower not to crack a smile.

The brunette coughs into her hand. "What I meant was, have you ever felt romantic love towards another?"

Of course he hadn't. His father made it clear from the get-go: to fall in love is not a privilege that Shouto had. It wasn't as if Shouto had the desire to oppose Enji because the boy thinks of love as a useless emotion that made one weak, that takes instead of gives.

Shouto redirects the question back to her, "Have you?"

Momo's eyes widen. "Huh?"

It's too late to go back now, Shouto decides. He asked a question, and now he expects an answer. So, he resolutely repeats, "Have you ever fallen in love?"

"That is—well, love is a powerful emotion that requires a lot of thought," Momo nervously blabbers, sweat forming on her forehead and her arms wildly moving up and down. The boy makes her so flustered without much effort.

("Dangerous," Kyouka told her when Momo explained their nightly meetings. "He's dangerous for your heart.")

"I thought you said it happens at the most random of time," Shouto reminds. She puffs her cheeks out adorably at his rebuttal.

"It can, but that's not to say I haven't thought about when and where I'll find my first love," Momo grumbles. Shouto can't understand what she's saying. "For example, my partner must share the same ideals as me, respect my words, and most importantly, stay by my side unconditionally. You've thought about things like this, haven't you?"

"I haven't," he boldly admits. The ponytailed woman sighs in defeat. There are some hurdles that even she can't jump over. Teaching Shouto Todoroki about love is one of them.

"Let's start off with 'like' then," Momo decides. Shouto crosses his arms together, a little insulted that she gave up that quickly. He quickly reassures himself that he's not an idiot to soothe his bruised ego.

"Liking someone is the same as loving them," Shouto argues. The brunette frowns.

"To a lesser extent. It's a bit like dislike and hatred." Now that is a comparison that Shouto understands, so he lets his argument drop and be forgotten. She clears her throat and straightens her back like a teacher preparing a lesson.

Which, in hindsight, is a fair comparison. He is basically her student at this point.

"First, you meet someone. Then, you get to know and befriend them." This started off awfully similar to his relationship with the likes of Izuku, Tenya, and the others. So what's the huge difference between friendship and 'like'?

"After, you start entertaining thoughts about liking them." She's met with a blank stare. "Thoughts of holding hands, going on dates, those sort of things that go beyond friendship."

Shouto's read enough romance in literature to get the general gist of her explanation, but it's still ridiculous in his mind. How does one go from friendship to love? It's a huge jump that he doubts anyone would willingly do.

"That's when you start denying liking someone. People who are afraid of relationships often try to push the other way in an attempt to ignore such feelings." He doesn't miss the way her eyes flicker onto his before she regains her poise. "Coming to the realization is frightening. Some may even hate these newfound emotions and being around the person makes them nervous because they don't know if it's reciprocated or not."

Hate and love are closely connected even though they lie on the opposite ends of the spectrum. Why, Shouto has no idea.

"Those brave enough to overcome their doubts embrace their attraction and may even attempt to pursue a relationship where like can turn into love," Momo finishes. It takes a while for Shouto to fully process the barrage of new information.

"That's too many steps," the teen huffs. He leans back to stare up at the stars. Entertaining thoughts about life beyond Earth seems easier than understanding the complicated process of liking someone.

Momo giggles. "I suppose it is."

Before he knows what he's saying, he blurts out, "Have you ever liked someone?"

The brunette stiffens. He doesn't miss the grimace on her face. Nonchalantly, she tells him, "Once."

And that was it. For someone so enthralled by the idea of love, she's strangely sullen about her own experience. Shouto abandons the subject altogether, ignoring the gnawing curiosity inside.

"That aside, it's not really all that complicated," Momo reassures the boy. Shouto raises an eyebrow at her attempt to comfort him. "It happens slowly, and then all at once."

Shouto resists the urge to roll his eyes. There she goes again, talking in metaphors and acting like love is some unpredictable entity. How could someone possibly **not** realize they are falling in love?

"You still don't understand, do you?" Momo sighs. Suddenly, Shouto feels guilty, though he's not sure why. Usually, if he couldn't comprehend the subject matter, his father would dismiss the tutor and hire a new one. Shouto didn't feel guilty then. But Momo is earnestly trying to teach him something he is hopeless at, and he feels a tad bit remorseful that he's not a better learner.

To his surprise, the girl is not discouraged. "Are you free tomorrow, Shouto-san?"

He slowly nods his head.

"Then, accompany me on an outing tomorrow. You'll meet with experts on the field," Momo proposes. Though there's a smidge of apprehension, he trusts her judgment. Silencing the alarm bells ringing in his head, he accepts her offer.

She claps her hands together giddily.

"Wonderful! I shall be at your residence before lunch," Momo informs the white-and-red-haired male. Her enthusiasm and bubbliness is infectious, and Shouto will admit, albeit hesitantly, that he's looking forward to their excursion the next day.

He cracks his knuckles, chewing on his bottom lip, before quietly whispering, "Yaoyorozu, thanks for putting up with this."

"Hm? I'm quite enjoying myself though," Momo reveals. Her smile reaches her ears. "I did agree to solving this mystery together, didn't I?"

Shouto is blinded by her glow.

Momo Yaoyorozu is selfless.

Momo Yaoyorozu is astute.

Momo Yaoyorozu is patient.

Momo Yaoyorozu is—

He doesn't even realize that well after bidding the girl goodbye and tucking himself into the futon, his thoughts are filled entirely of a passionate, black-haired girl who he can be at ease around without fearing judgment.

(Embedded deep between atria and ventricles, a seed has been planted unbeknownst to the Todoroki heir.)

* * *

 _I really do love Kouji's voice. It's just so damn cute, and it's a damn shame we don't hear more of it in the anime ;;;_


	6. She Wishes For Your Perspective

**Here's the thing about love: It's hard to put into words.**

 **But Shouto tries, and he tries, and he tries.**

 **(Failure isn't anywhere in his dictionary.)**

* * *

Blue or red?

Shouto brings the two hangers holding the shirts up to his torso, alternating between one and the other. He studies his reflection in the mirror, lips pursed in concentration. They're the same brand, the same style, and yet, he can't choose. For the first time in his entire life, Shouto is utterly stumped on what to wear for the day.

He ponders over his little dilemma before stepping outside of his room, hangers in hand, to search for Baba. Another opinion will do him good, and time is running short.

Unfortunately for the white-and-red-haired teen, his grandmother is nowhere in sight, and to his dismay, the only other warm body in the house is his temperamental uncle.

"Whatcha got there, kid?" Fubuki asks, cleaning his teeth with a toothpick. Shouto inwardly curses at his luck; it's too late to sneak back into his room now.

"Where's Baba?"

"Out."

Fubuki eyes the two pieces of fabric, raising an eyebrow at the unusually formal button-ups. His nephew had been borrowing his clothes since the moment he arrived in Kannami, but it seems as if Shouto is determined to wear his own attire for once. "Special occasion?"

"I'm going somewhere," Shouto hesitantly reveals. He must be careful, lest Fubuki learn that he'll be accompanying Momo in what is certainly **not** a date.

"With who?" Gray eyes narrow suspiciously, causing Shouto to quickly look away. His uncharacteristic timidity only serves to pique Fubuki's curiosity even more.

"A…friend," Shouto slowly answers. Was he always this bad at lying?

"Inko's kid?"

A shake of the head (if Fubuki saw Izuku later that day without Shouto, things will not bode well for the youngest Todoroki).

There's a moment of silence that passes between them for far too long for Shouto's liking. He can practically hear the gears whirl inside his uncle's head, and when the shit-eating grin appears on Fubuki's face, Shouto knows he's doomed.

"...No fucking way," Fubuki howls, jovially slapping his knees. Instinctively, Shouto cringes and braces himself for the teasing that's about to be thrown at him. "The Yaoyorozu girl?!"

Breathe in; breathe out.

"How'd you even manage that?! I mean, have you seen her? And look… Just look at you, Mr. I-Can't-Choose-A-Fucking-Shirt-By-Myself!"

Count down from 100.

"Wait, seriously, did you pull out some line like 'You melted my frozen heart'? Hoo boy, the imagery's pretty great—"

"Blue or red," Shouto snaps. He's scarlet all the way down to his chest, and the heat and Fubuki's badgering aren't helping. All he wanted was some fashion advice, and instead, he receives a whole new set of problems.

Wiping a tear away from the corner of his eye, Fubuki decides, "Blue."

Meeting his nephew's unconvinced eyes, he elaborates, "Red clashes with half your hair, kid."

Shouto is in awe at the unexpectedly fair point his uncle brings up. Slightly bowing his head (because he's been raised to be respectful even when certain people, like his uncle, did not deserve it), he murmurs, "Thanks."

For a split second, Shouto's convinced he sees a rare show of tenderness flash in Fubuki's eyes, but it's gone in a blink. His uncle waves him off with his free hand. "Hurry up and get ready, lover boy."

There's a frown on the teen's face as he trudges back to his room. "I'm not a 'lover boy'."

"Oh yeah?" Even with his back turned towards the older man, Shouto can practically see the Cheshire grin. "Then why're you so worked up about what you're gonna wear for your **date**?"

A slam of the door answers the question, and Shouto is forced to listen to his uncle's boisterous guffaws through the thin walls of the house.

He and his uncle definitely **cannot** , **ever** , get along.

Shouto finally decides on what his attire will consist of thanks to Fubuki's input: a blue button-up, white slacks, and black loafers. Baba returns before Momo arrives, and she gives Shouto a thumb up when he steps out of his room.

"Very nice choice," Baba compliments, eyes twinkling. Shouto shoves his hands in his pockets, trying to hide the smile threatening to appear. The first time she saw his choice, she made her distaste obvious. It makes his chest puff out in pride that he's managed to get the opposite reaction now.

True to her words, the Yaoyorozu's only daughter arrives before lunch, just as Baba dons on her apron to prepare for the meal. He goes to greet the girl when he hears the doorbell and freezes when he sees her.

Momo's wearing a navy-blue short sleeve with a long white skirt and a pair of black, ankle-length boots. They take a second to observe each other's outfits for the day. Embarrassment settles in the air.

"Ah…"

"Oh my…"

Fubuki's head peeks out from the dining room, and he immediately bursts out into laughter when he catches sight of the two teenagers dawdling awkwardly at the front of the house.

"Couple outfits on the first date?! Did you guys coordinate this, or is this just some sort of scary coincidence—"

To save the two young adults from further harassment, Baba quickly shuts her son up by hitting his head with the back of a pan. The older man crumples to the floor, quietly cursing and clutching his head in pain.

"You two have fun!" Baba says with a bright smile, as if she didn't just display a rare showing of merciless violence towards her son. Shouto and Momo exchange looks of slight fear before bowing towards the elder and scurrying out of the house. With the two youths out of the house, Baba glares down at her son and kicks his side lightly with her foot. "And you! You need to stop taking out your frustrations on Shou-chan just because you can't get a date of your own."

Fubuki groans. "You really hit where it hurts, don't cha? You hag…"

Meanwhile, now that they're out of the building, Momo nervously fidgets with the straps of her brown wristlet. Sensing her discomfort, Shouto tilts his head to the side.

"What's wrong?"

"Eh? N-Nothing," Momo reassures, waving her hand dismissively. He narrows his eyes at her obvious lie, so she quickly changes the subject. "Shall we go?"

If she didn't want to talk about it, Shouto isn't about to force it out of her. He nods his head, and follows her lead down the road. For some reason, the length of the path seems longer than usual.

They walk largely in silence. To match her pace, Shouto slows down just a bit. Though he's only a couple of centimeters taller, her strides are about half the size of his. Walking in heels must be another factor to her sluggish movements, and he notes that her feet are considerably smaller in comparison.

After being surrounded by people older than him for the majority of his life, this is the first time in his life that Shouto's alone with a girl his age, walking casually side-by-side. Her arms sway, bracelets jingling and ponytail bouncing against her back with every step. Lips are tinted pink, lower eyelashes slightly longer than the average, silver earrings sparkling underneath the summer sun—

"—isn't it, Shouto-san?"

A pair of heterochromatic eyes blink slowly, breaking out of the temporary stupor.

"Can you repeat what you said, Yaoyorozu?"

Momo fiddles with her purse. Her fingers really are long and delicate.

"I said that the weather today is pleasant," Momo reiterates. Her head is staring straight ahead. Shouto tears his eyes away from studying her features to look at the direction she's facing.

"It's not that hot."

Which is good, because he's wearing pants today.

"Mm."

Their talk comes to a halt, and Shouto racks his brain trying to figure out how to keep the flow going. The best that he can come up with is,

"…I like the cold better."

Momo peers up at him, and then after a pause, giggles softly. It turns into full-blown laughter shortly after, and Shouto clenches his fist tightly. He'll let her have her fun at his expense for now.

"…I apologize. This tense atmosphere is my fault, and I know you're trying your best to relieve it," Momo admits. There's a breeze that blows at them, causing her to shiver a little from the cold.

He doesn't like prying, he doesn't like forcing things out of people, but it bothers him that she's so tight-lipped, and he hasn't a clue as to why. Whenever they meet at night, she seems a lot more relaxed around him. But with the fence no longer separating the two teens, Momo seems a lot more reserved, on-edge.

Human beings are such complicated creatures.

"You're not wearing your eyepatch today," Momo observes. She brushes a strand of hair behind her ear, and Shouto watches it settle in its new place.

"Yeah."

She shifts her eyes over to him for a moment. He knows she's looking without seeing it himself. Even Momo has aspects that he dislikes. For example, when something is on her mind, she takes careful consideration on whether or not to share. If it's the former, it takes her even longer to think of the right words to vocalize her thoughts.

It's the opposite of his impulsive nature.

"Yaoyorozu, if you have something you want to say, then tell me already."

Her shoulders jerk up a little, as if she's surprised that she had been caught doing something she isn't supposed to. She bites her bottom lip contemplatively, and after taking a deep breath, does just what Shouto orders her to do.

"What made you decide against wearing it?"

The sun is up at its highest point. Fluffy, white clouds idly fly over, granting them some protection from the intense rays of heat. Their shoes crunch on uncut grass, tickling the exposed parts of their ankles.

This scenery is something he would never had a chance to see in Shizuoka.

"I can see more clearly now," Shouto answers. She stops, gazing pensively at the nape of his neck. White and red roots zigzag. He pauses when he realizes that his companion has ceased movement and is now standing still. Turning his head over his shoulder, mismatches eyes regard her curiously. "Yaoyorozu?"

There's a tenderness written on her face.

"You're not hiding it anymore," Momo comments, slightly pleased. She steps around him to walk ahead, and Shouto follows shortly after. There's a five footsteps distance between them.

White hair, gray eye. Red hair, blue eye. They're undeniably two sides of him—something he had been vehemently hiding from others.

"I'm not," Shouto agrees. Her boots forge a path through the thick grass. His feet step over their tracks, imprinting larger footsteps. "Is it a big deal?"

"I think it is."

It's just a piece of cloth. It's just an opinion. And yet, he wants to know the reason why. He wants to know all kinds of things that are going through Momo Yaoyorozu's mind at the given moment.

(He wants to know what she thinks of him.)

Gulping down the lump in his throat, he says, "What makes you say that?"

They step onto a paved path that leads towards a cobbled street. The buildings around them range from dollar stores to market stalls displaying freshly harvested vegetables from local farms. It's mostly empty, and the people that they do pass by look busy bustling to and from the alleyways.

The black-haired woman shrugs her shoulders. "It makes it seem like you're opening up to me." Replaying her statement in her head, she quickly adds, "And Midoriya-san, Iida-san, Uraraka-san. You know, e-everyone!"

Shouto thinks for a moment. There is truth to her words, as per usual. "Maybe it's something in the water."

Momo makes a strangled noise in her throat and gives the boy a disbelieving look. "Did you just make a joke?"

"Am I not allowed to?"

"Eh? W-Well, of course you're free to do so. It was just so unexpected, I'm not sure how to respond."

"…You could laugh, for starters."

She opens her mouth to reply, but they're interrupted by a loud whistle off to the side. "Wow, would you look at that. They're wearing couple clothes!"

Shouto blinks and looks over to see a group of girls seated in a table. The one who whistled is an athletic-looking teen with wild, unruly pink hair and sharp golden eyes. To her right is a grinning brown-haired lady with hazel eyes. The rest of the party is composed of Kyouka, Ochako, and Tsuyu.

"It's just a coincidence, Mina," Momo hurriedly corrects, though it doesn't wipe the suggestive looks everyone, minus Tsuyu, sends her. Kyouka glances over at the taller male with a mystified expression.

"I thought that eyepatch was just something for the 'mysterious, cool boy' image you had," Kyouka bluntly confesses. Subtlety is not her forte, which makes Shouto both thankful and resentful.

"Wow, a real-life pretty boy!" the brown-haired girl squeals. "I should move to the city if all boys there look like you."

"Tooru-chan, what would Ojiro-kun say about that?" Tsuyu asks. Tooru gasps and sways like she's been shot at.

"Oh, no! Mashi-kun is still the coolest guy around! Don't tell him I said anything."

The girls shift their focus over to the flustered girl, teasing her about her blonde boyfriend. Shouto shuffles his feet on the floor uncomfortably.

"Yaoyorozu, what's the meaning of this?"

Innocently, she tilts her head. "They're the experts I was talking about. They can teach you plenty about love."

So the outing she proposed the night before wasn't just for the two of them. Somehow, he'd been swindled to tag along to a 'girls-only hangout'. His gut screams at him to run away, but his sense of honor forces him to stay because Shouto is not one to go back on his promises.

"Take a seat, Shouto-san!" Ochako encourages. She pats the chair next to her while Momo squeezes in-between Kyouka and Mina. The pink-haired girl leans over to whisper something in Momo's ears, causing the ponytailed teen to vehemently shake her head and flush red. His attention is forced onto the menu when Ochako slides it over. "You haven't eaten lunch yet, have you?"

Shouto shakes his head and examines his choices. There are some dishes that he's familiar with, like ramen or udon, but there are others that he's never encountered before.

Tsuyu notices his distress. "Do you need help, Shouto-chan?"

"What's…onigiri?"

Five pairs of eyes blink owlishly at his question. Then, without missing a beat, Momo answers, "It's white rice formed in triangular shapes with various fillings and wrapped in seaweed."

"Ah," Shouto says. His fingers move down to the next item. "What about omurice?"

"A dish of fried rice with an omelet on the top. It's usually topped with ketchup."

The duo continues their little Q&A session while the others watch the exchange with incredulous looks. Rather than a couple, now the pair resembles a mother and her child. Tooru softly giggles in her hands.

"Maybe my first impression was wrong!" the girl cheerfully admits. There's a chorus of agreements that echo throughout the group. Momo pauses on her explanation, and Shouto looks up from the menu. "Oops, did I say that out loud? Hehe, I'm Tooru Hagakure. It's so nice to meet you!"

"Mm."

Tooru pouts at the lackluster response. "Ahhhh, what a boring response. You have to put more spirit into this."

"You're asking for too much, Tooru-chan," Ochako laughs. From the times she's been around him, 'lethargic' is what she'd use to describe his energy levels. Shouto stares quizzically at the girl's sullenness.

Mina claps her hands together to switch the spotlight onto her. "If we're doing introductions, then I should be next. Mina Ashido, at your service!"

Shouto blinks before robotically bowing his head slightly in acknowledgement. Kyouka snorts in amusement.

"You really don't know a thing about social interaction, do you?"

He glares over at the punk-rock girl who returns his look of disdain with a challenging smirk. It taunts him, daring him to prove her wrong, but he begrudgingly must admit that there is no way for him to successfully refute her claim.

"Eh? Is that what it is?" Ochako gasps. He tilts his head at her surprise. The short-haired brunette gives him a sheepish smile as she rubs the back of her head. "I'm sorry, Shouto-san. You seemed cold and aloof. I didn't even realize it was because you're just, well, awkward!"

Her bright energy detracts from the jab she makes at his character, but it's nonetheless an attack at his distant disposition.

"There are lots of people like him. Take Shouji-chan and Tokoyami-chan, for example," Tsuyu interjects. He's thankful that the green-haired girl is attempting to cheer him up, though the damage has already been inflicted.

Girls could be so…merciless.

Around this time, a waitress heads over to their table to take their orders. Shouto decides to try the omurice, exchanging a look with Momo who nods her head in encouragement. Every day, he learns or experiences something new. Frankly, this is exhilarating to the sheltered boy, and though this female-dominant outing came by complete surprise, he might as well learn the most that he can from them.

 _"Make use of your resources, Shouto." His father clicks his tongue as he runs his hands over the cold, steel machinery. "It's becoming more difficult to find people to rely on these days."_

"By the way, why'd you bring him along?" Kyouka asks her best friend as she bites into her beef steak. Why is it that the purple-haired girl seemed to distrust him? He's not sure what he's done to offend her nor does he know how to fix it. Thus, he's resolved to increase his tolerance to her sharp language.

It's a long process.

Momo glances over at Shouto uncertainly. "Would you like to share, or should I do it for you?"

He spins his fork in the omelet, scattering bits and pieces along with the rice underneath. At any other given chance, he'd much prefer for others to speak for him because he's not the most talkative person around. But this matter is different: he had to take lead of this situation.

"I wanted to learn more about love."

Mina nearly chokes on her burger. "Love? As in like, the thing couples have?"

Shouto presses his lips together tightly to form a thin line before dubiously nodding his head. To say that **all** couples have love in their relationships is a stretch, but he didn't want to argue with semantics here. Besides, he's vastly outnumbered in this situation.

(And plus, it's only around Momo, deep in the evening underneath the twinkling stars, that he's comfortable enough to unabashedly share his jaded views on love and the likes.)

Kyouka points her fork over at him accusingly. "For someone with your face, you'd think you'd have more experience."

"Kyouka!" Momo hisses warningly. The short-haired girl lowers her fork, but the hostility lingers in the air. Shouto allows her scathing words to bounce off, unfazed. He's growing some thick skin at a surprisingly fast pace.

"Mm, well, you probably know the same things that we do," Ochako humbly says. Momo quickly shakes her head.

"About that…"

Shouto exhales loudly through his nose. Finally, **someone** believes in his knowledge about the tricky emotion.

"We can't tackle a problem without knowing what it is, firstly," Tsuyu wisely points out. They turn their attention to the white-and-red-haired boy who fidgets in his seat when he's suddenly pushed into the limelight. "Please share what you think about love, Shouto-chan."

He places his fork down by the side of his plate. "Love is an intense feeling of deep affection."

Tooru rolls her eyes at his answer. "Well, duh. That's so textbook. Tell us how you **really** feel."

Shouto frowns.

"Wait… _That's_ what you think love is?" Mina sputters. Small specks of her burger come flying out, and she pats her mouth with a napkin. "Dude, you're like…so straight-laced, I can't even laugh."

He gives Momo a deadpan look. "Yaoyorozu, though I respect your judgment, do I really have stay?"

"Let's stop teasing Shouto-san and listen to his request, all right?" Momo advises. Truly, as the matriarch of their little conglomeration, she skillfully diffuses all types of conflict. No one has the audacity to go against the brunette's orders (not even Kyouka who is dying to poke more fun at the stoic male).

Kyouka twirls her headphones with one finger. "Where do we even start with someone this dense—"

" **Kyouka**."

"Tense. I said 'tense'," Kyouka grumbles. Shouto furrows his eyebrows together.

"'Tense'?"

"Ah, I get it!" Ochako exclaims. She snaps her fingers together. "Your thoughts about love are too rigid!"

Oh, so now love has a texture too? At this point, Shouto wouldn't be surprised if love had a smell or sound associated with it.

"Then, how should I loosen it?"

The group falls silent upon Shouto's inquiry. The girls look at Momo to throw in some suggestions. Out of the six women, she's the one most blessed with keen sensibility.

"He learns best through examples," Momo offers. That's the most she can aid them, given that even she is unable teach Shouto. And this is coming from the girl who tutored both Mina and Denki in physics, a near impossible task for their teacher (though, saying you put more effort than Shouta Aizawa at anything isn't very praise-worthy).

"Oooh, then let's go around and share our experiences with love!" Tooru excitedly declares. She's practically bouncing in her seat. "I'll go first!"

Shouto visibly stiffens. He's only read about these things in books, and even then, most male protagonists never had a chance of witnessing what he's about to: 'girl talk'. Counting from three, he mentally prepares for the onslaught of code words and hidden messages.

This could prove to be the most challenging thing he's faced in his entire life.

"I met Mashi-kun at the entrance ceremony for high school. He was so plain and ordinary that I couldn't recognize him even though we were seating partners!" Tooru reveals gleefully.

Ochako scratches the side of her face. "I'm not sure if you're praising or insulting your boyfriend, Tooru-chan."

"Give her time. The sappy part starts about…" Mina stares pointedly at a pair of hazel eyes that grows two times their normal size and sparkles like it's been polished with Oxiclean. "Now."

"But you know, it's not like I stand out or anything. Sometimes, people forget I'm in the same room as them!"

Somehow, Shouto has a hard time believing this because the brunette resembles a spirited ball of sunshine. It's hard not to pay attention to something so dazzling.

"Not Mashi-kun though. He'd notice when something was wrong with me, or when I was feeling happier than normal. So gradually, I started noticing him too. And then..."

"You fell in love," Shouto finishes. His eyes meet Momo's. "'It happens slowly, and then all at once'."

The ponytailed girl's mouth flies open, and she gapes at him dumbly for a moment before adverting her eyes away. There's a pretty flush on her cheeks, and he finds himself staring until a sharp kick jerks him back to reality. Judging from the way Kyouka is whistling innocently, the culprit is obvious.

Purple-haired people really know how to test his patience.

"Who confessed first?" Ochako asks, entranced. It's rare for them to gather and talk about boys, much less in excruciating detail.

"Me, duh! I'm the type of person who can't keep their feelings all bottled up. It's like, bad for your soul or something."

Kyouka rolls her eyes. "You know, I never pegged you as the spiritual type."

"Ehhhh? Maybe Mashi-kun is rubbing off on me. He's all about karma and dharma." After being confessed to by the brunette, Mashirao spent the next few nights meditating and praising his previous lives for giving him the blessing known as Tooru Hagakure.

"You're so brave, Tooru-chan," Ochako admires. Shouto agrees with the sentiment: the girl whose head is in the clouds 70% of the time is a lot braver than most people credited. Ochako shyly pokes at her vegetable tempura. "I wish I had the courage to…"

Tooru pumps an arm up towards the sky. "You can do it, Ochako-chan! You know what they say. 'The time you decide to do it is your'…something-something."

"'The day you decide to is your lucky day'," Momo corrects. Tooru beams at their reliable vice-president.

"Yeah, that!"

Ochako tries her best to remain cheerful, though her brightness has considerably dimmed. It's unusual to see her so dejected. Even Shouto knows this despite knowing her for only a couple of days.

"Who do you love, Uraraka?"

The girl's cheeks normally glow a healthy pink, but after his question, they intensify to a shade of crimson that he didn't know existed until that very moment. She brings her hands to her cheeks, patting them down in an attempt to extinguish the fire he's lit.

"L-L-L-Love?!" the poor girl squeaks. "But I…love is—no, no, he's just my best friend!"

Shouto's thoroughly confused by her reaction.

"My, Ochako-chan, how long has it been? This stage of denial is the longest I've seen so far," Momo sighs, in the same way that a mother does when her child is being difficult.

"Denial? I'm not d-denying anything!"

"If you wanted to make it more believable, it's better if you don't stutter," Kyouka recommends with a teasing smirk. With her back against the wall, Ochako turns to her best friend Tsuyu for help.

"The person who first appears in your thoughts is the answer, kero."

Ochako pouts: traitor. Still, Shouto is looking at her expectantly. It puts her on the spot, and she doesn't deal with pressure too well.

"Hypothetically, if I **did** love someone—"

"'Hypothetically', she says," Mina whispers to Tooru. They snicker quietly and are silenced by the dark, menacing look Ochako sends them. It's even more frightening coming from her.

"W-Well, they'd have to be kind…"

There are plenty of kind people in the world, Shouto thinks. Ochako has to be more specific, and upon realizing this, slightly panics. She takes a gulp of air before continuing.

"And, um, they'd be considerate. Selfless to a fault."

Her eyes glaze over as she's overtaken by an invisible force.

"Clumsy, but well-meaning. Soft-spoken, but firm. Bright, but fastidious."

There's a fond smile on her face that makes even Shouto's heart miss a beat. It's filled to the brim with endearment.

"The type of person who, despite everything thrown his way, can stand confidently and face it all with a smile on his face."

Shouto raises an eyebrow. That sounded awfully familiar to something that Izuku once said to him…

"If only you could say all this to the person himself," Kyouka says, shaking her head in disappointment. It's frustrating to see the pair of love-sick cinnamon rolls dance around each other without ever colliding.

Ochako can only bury her face into her arms as Tsuyu comfortingly pats her back.

"Tsuyu-chan, it's your turn!" Tooru radiantly announces.

Said girl places a finger to her chin, contemplating. "Love is all about comfort and trust. Someone who is reliable."

Shouto liked this definition the best. Straight and to-the-point, unlike that large, concise list of characteristics Ochako spewed out.

"That's a little too vanilla," Mina complains. She makes circle motions with her hands. "You need a little spice to add some flavor to that."

"Then, someone who's self-assured until it comes romance. Seeing them all flustered is cute, too, kero," Tsuyu chimes in. Momo laughs nervously at the unexpected answer.

"I didn't expect for you to have a sadistic side, Tsuyu-chan…"

"Yeah, and who's the victim?" Mina jokes. She leans in closely, resting her chin in the palm of her hands. The composed girl rarely showed her favor towards those of the opposite gender, so listening to her preferences is a treat in itself.

Tsuyu just gives them an unreadable smile. "It's a secret, kero."

"Boo, no fun!" Tooru harrumphs. Instead of dwelling on it for too long, however, she shifts her focus onto the standoffish girl leaning back against her chair. "Jirou-chan, your turn!"

"Me? Sorry to say, but I got nothing juicy to share," she shrugs. Mina wiggles her eyebrows suggestively.

"'Nothing', you say? You know, you've been pretty chummy with a certain blonde-haired, gaming nerd lately."

Kyouka adverts her eyes away from prying golden ones. "So, what? A guy and a girl can't be friends?"

"'Friends' don't warrant leaving band practice early to walk home together every day," Momo pipes in. Kyouka whirls around to face her best friend with a shocked look. Never in her entire life did the punk-rock girl expect this kind of betrayal.

"Momo!"

"I knew there was something happening between you two!" Mina rejoices. Out of Katsuki's group, Denki always seemed most likely to end up as a loser bachelor wasting his youth away alone in a dingy apartment.

"Too late for that. For an idiot, he's overthinking things a little too much," Kyouka huffs. She crosses her arms together, emanating annoyance from every pore of her body. Momo tilts her head in confusion.

"What do you mean?"

"I dunno. Ask the stupid idiot himself. He's been acting weird lately," Kyouka grumbles. Ever since they talked about their career plans, Denki has slowly but surely been distancing himself from her.

Despite Kyouka's scathing words, there's still a hint of affection underneath all the spikes. Shouto surmises that love isn't all fluffy and soft.

"Mina-chan, why don't you go?" Tsuyu suggests. Kyouka's not the type of girl to openly discuss her feelings in a large group setting, so the green-haired girl changes the subject. Catching onto Tsuyu's intent, Mina fulfills her role.

"I'm actually in a long-distance relationship right now," she sheepishly admits. Shouto quirks an eyebrow up at the unexpected answer. Long-distance, especially for high schoolers, is quite difficult.

"Isn't it hard?"

"Oh, yeah. Video calls, text messages—they don't fill the void, but it's the best that we can manage until the future," Mina sighs. "It's exhausting, but you gotta do what you gotta do."

"Mina's boyfriend is half-French," Momo fills in. "He transferred at the start of our third year."

"You know, he didn't tell me earlier because he wanted the reveal to be super dramatic," Mina complains. She slams her fist against the table so forcefully that it shakes. "I almost gave him an uppercut on the spot!"

Shouto concludes that love is also filled with disagreement and small altercations.

"Is it worth it?"

Mina blinks at the sudden question before grinning and confidently answering, "Hell yeah he's worth it."

How odd it is that love makes a person go through such lengths.

Now that everyone has had a chance to share their interpretation, Momo turns to Shouto expectantly. "Did you learn something new?"

"Love is difficult to understand," Shouto admits. They all share looks of concern before prodding him to continue. "On one hand, it's one thing while being something completely different at the same time."

"Yeah, yeah, you're getting it!" Tooru eagerly exclaims. Shouto scoffs.

"Hardly, if I can't even explain it properly."

"No, Shouto-san, that's the thing. Love is different for everyone. It's not something so simple that it can be explained in technical terms like you tried doing," Ochako clarifies. She's calmed down enough to finally rejoin the conversation.

"Yeah, you'd have to be some sort of super genius to have everyone suddenly agree with your version of love," Kyouka asserts. "Which, by the way, no one has ever achieved, so good luck if that's what you're trying to accomplish."

Why must she be so abrasive with him?

"It's okay not to understand some things in life, kero," Tsuyu reassures. Her advice is the exact opposite of his father's teachings. "There are things that you'll just have to experience yourself, so try to keep an open mind."

An open mind…

Shouto thinks back to his conversation with his uncle regarding his mother. If there was an underlying reason to her creating a scar on his face, then perhaps there's an underlying reason to her choosing Enji as a husband.

In order to see that, he'd have to curb his hatred and cleanse his eyes to see his father in a different light. But it's so difficult, so, **so** difficult when he associates pain and suffering to that man.

But when he sees Momo's bright smile, because he's finally understood what she's been trying to get across these past couple of nights, the least that he can do when he's come this far is to try. Even if it wears away at his sanity and conscience, there's a force behind his back that urges him to keep moving forward.

"Thank you," Shouto says after a lengthy pause. The girls stop talking amongst themselves and focus on the white-and-red-haired male. For their hard work, he rewards them a small but genuine smile so rare that they'd have better luck actually winning the lottery than seeing it again. "For everything."

Mina's mouth flies open. "W-Woah… Can you do that again? I have to get a picture."

"Bright… It's too blinding!" Tooru dramatically cries out, covering her eyes with one arm.

Kyouka rubs her forearms with her hands. "I got shivers. I think something terrible's about to happen. Should I check how much life insurance I have?"

"That smile can cure cancer, end world hunger—" Ochako starts off.

Tsuyu finishes with, "Create world peace, kero."

Shouto scowls at their exaggerated reactions, but it's not like he's **really** annoyed with their antics. It's all in good nature, he's learned, and when he hears Momo's laugh amongst the group, the next smile threatens to come out.

(He quickly suppresses it though, lest he be subjected to another round of jests.)

When they all finish their meal and prepare to leave, the girls bid Shouto goodbye.

"We have to prepare our class booth for Obon," Ochako tells him. It'd be a simple one, selling taiyaki, because Shouta Aizawa can't be damned to accept a more creative idea due to that 'creating needless paperwork he isn't willing to do'.

"Every class does one, kero," Tsuyu adds in. Shouto is impressed that the school is so heavily involved in a local festival. The most fun activity he's done at 'school' is when his English tutor gave him candy for answering her questions fluently.

"You should totally come by!" Tooru suggests. "Lend a helping hand as payback. 'You scratch my back, and I'll scratch yours' kinda deal!"

"You just want more time to explore the festival with Ojiro," Kyouka sighs. Tooru covers her mouth with a hand, feigning hurt.

"Don't expose me like this, Jirou-chan!"

"Alright guys, let's go get the supplies! If we hurry, we can probably get a discount and spend the rest on ice cream," Mina urges. She marches ahead to lead the group of gals. Momo lingers behind for a bit.

"I'm not one to rub things in people's faces, but I do believe this is where I say 'I told you so'," Momo teasingly says. Shouto exhales a long breath of air.

"They're loud, but they're nice," Shouto concedes. He crosses his arms together. "I never doubted you though. I knew you're good at doing things like these."

Smugness turns into surprise before melting into embarrassment. "You're far too kind, Shouto-san."

He wants to retort that **he** should be the one saying those words to her. But they're interrupted when Kyouka loudly calls out, "Momo, we're going to leave you behind if you don't hurry!"

The ponytailed girl laughs softly. "I suppose that's my cue." She takes a couple steps before looking over her shoulder. "I'll be in your care later this evening."

She's still within the reach of his arm. It would be easy enough to grab hold of her, to tell her to stay by his side instead of joining the rest of her classmates. But what reason would he be able to give when she's already set aside time for him?

He's being unreasonable, he knows this.

Thus, he watches her silhouette disappear off into the distance with the rest, fingers curling and uncurling at his side. It's when he's sure that she isn't coming back to him that he finally decides to head back home, wrinkles appearing on his face as he submerges into deep thought.

(A cotyledon sprouts from the seed shell, and though it is small for now, with proper care could turn into something bigger and beautiful; Shouto is still painfully unaware of its existence.)

* * *

 _Author Notes:_

 _Date outfits inspired by official BNHA stickers~ And, well, based on the girls' conversations, you can all probably infer what the background/secondary ships are (possibly, maybe, except for one or two)._

 _Also, thank you for leaving behind reviews showing your excitement! This story already has 13 chapters on AO3, so I'm just uploading once a week until this version inevitably catches up. Hopefully, I don't betray any expectations (･д･)_


	7. She Wishes For Your Revelation

**"There is no point in using the word 'impossible' to describe something that has clearly happened."**

 **―** Douglas Adams, Dirk Gently's Holistic Detective Agency

* * *

He thinks that maybe, just **maybe** , he might have an inkling about his growing attachment to a certain black-haired, ponytailed girl.

Shouto trudges through the path of grass he and Momo took to reach the center of town, recalling the sight of her back and the radiant smile she had sent his way. He kicks a rock off towards the side in frustration, because he really shouldn't be dwelling on _that_ of all things.

The troubled teen inhales a deep breath of air to collect his thoughts. Getting frustrated on things that he has no control over is useless, that much he can say for sure, so it is better to find the root of the problem and address it.

Using his limited knowledge on the subject of love, he follows the thought process that intellectuals use in order to answer onerous questions: the scientific method.

Firstly, his hypothesis on _why_ he is feeling a whole new array of emotions towards Momo is because, dare he say, he **might** be developing feelings that go past platonic. Which is ludicrous because 'love' and 'Shouto' do not belong in the same sentence, but given his newfound awareness of the tricky emotion, it might not exactly be as impossible as he once thought it was.

(The revelation makes his body itch, which he blames solely on the blasted blades brushing against his sensitive skin.)

Predictions: he needs testable predictions. Shouto purses his lips together, thinking long and hard. A cloud passes over the sun, causing shadows to cover him as he ponders. What did the girls say again?

For Tooru, it had been because the test subject noticed something different. Curiosity lead to awareness before eventually settling on attraction. But how could he possibly test that in a short amount of time? Even Shouto is stumped, so he quickly crosses that option from his list.

In Ochako's case, well… Shouto isn't quite sure _what_ to make out of it. Frankly put, the girl is about as lovesick as they get, and Shouto is sure that he can never successfully emulate that in a testable and replicable algorithm.

Tsuyu… Yes, Tsuyu's will do quite nicely. Comfort and trust. Momo's presence is as comforting as they come, given her tendency to dote on her friends like a mother. And he wouldn't have even dared sharing his deepest and most vulnerable secrets if he **didn** ' **t** trust her.

Just that alone is enough to make Shouto conclude that, yes, the Todoroki heir is in love with the daughter of his mother's past lover (or hopeless suitor; he doesn't know yet).

 **BUT** , he shouldn't be hasty with his conclusions. That is what the scientific method is used for: to prevent Shouto from doing exactly that. How embarrassing would it have been to recklessly conclude that he developed feelings for the first person that he spent a consistent, considerable amount of time with? Shameful, just shameful.

(At this point, the white-and-red-haired male is doing everything in his power to deny the truth.)

Now, he just needed a few test subjects for his little experiment…

"Oh, Shouto!" a voice calls out. Hearing his name, the teen whips his head around to find the source of the noise. His heterochromatic eyes fall on a blonde and red-haired duo sitting off towards the side, bundled sunflowers carefully set on the ground beside them.

"Kirishima." The red-haired boy grins at the acknowledgement, revealing a set of sharp, pointed teeth. "And… Kaminari."

"Ding, ding, ding!" the loud-mouthed blonde sings aloud. He sends Shouto finger guns. "Nice job, city boy!"

Shouto has a very, **very** hard time understanding why someone as easily annoyed as Kyouka likes someone as energetic as Denki.

"What're you doing out here?" Eijirou wonders. Hardly anyone knew this road. It is a secret shortcut kept within Class 3-A, but strangely enough, the new face in town is worming himself in, as if he belonged in the group all along.

It takes him a while to come up with an answer, because he knows that if he tells the full-story, it'll no doubt raise a few questions he isn't willing to answer just yet. Instead, Shouto merely shrugs and says, "I was taking a walk."

"…Uh-huh. 'A walk'," Denki repeats incredulously and uses his fingers to make air-quotes. The dual-haired boy is an oddity to them all, but that may just be because he came from the city and things operated differently there.

Denki doesn't know; he barely passed geography and social politics.

(He also didn't know that Shizuoka, Shouto's hometown, is a mere hour away and therefore didn't differ too much from Kannami.)

Shouto wished for some test subjects. And two appeared right before him. It's funny and somewhat concerning how almost everything fell onto his lap, but he isn't about to complain. If bad luck is going to come his way as a means to balance all the good fortune he's been having lately, he only requests for it to come **after** he's done discovering the mystery of love and his mother's past.

"Are you two busy right now?" Shouto asks. He finds himself sitting beside the two well before they answer, because it feels natural to. Before, he'd have been waiting long until he got confirmation from both parties before feeling comfortable enough to take space he wasn't originally invited to.

Eijirou shakes his head. "Well, we're _supposed_ to be delivering these, but Denki—"

"Hey, you agreed to take a break, too!" the blonde protests. The red-haired boy rolls his eyes at the childish interruption.

"Yeah, anyways, we got time now," Eijirou shrugs. He runs a hand through his unruly hair before collapsing onto the grass, arms tucked under his head for support. As the sun's rays filtered through passing clouds, he turns to Shouto with squinted eyes. "What's up? You need help with something?"

He doesn't know either of the two well enough, so his willingness to inquire for their assistance comes as a surprise to Shouto as well. His father had always told him to ensure that his resources were safe and secure before using them, but Enji isn't right here right now to dictate his actions.

Shouto stares at a patch of dandelions by his feet.

"How do you feel about someone who puts you at ease?" he hesitantly starts off. Eijirou and Denki share a look of confusion at the unexpected inquiry, but nevertheless, they offer their own answers to the awkward teen.

"Well, uh, good I guess? I mean, I wouldn't want to keep hanging around someone I don't feel comfortable around, you know?" Denki explains while wildly gesticulating. He rubs his temples. "Gah, is this supposed to be a riddle or something?!"

"You're so unmanly," Eijirou scoffs. Denki gives him a glare that's repelled by the easy smile on the red-haired male's face. "I'd say that I end up liking the person!"

There it is again, the word 'like' which doesn't mean having the same or similar characteristics as another object.

"What do you mean by 'like'?" Shouto prods.

Eijirou tilts his head. "Uh… I'd want them to be my friend?"

"But what if you don't want to be just friends. What if it's deeper?"

"…Best friends, then?"

"No," Shouto asserts firmly. He's dancing around the subject, and it's not helping that neither Denki nor Eijirou has a clue as to where he's heading with this. A part of him wishes that it's Momo who he's talking to, but another yells that it's because it's her that he can't consult the black-haired girl about this.

"Dude, can you like, just explain it in plain and simple words?" Denki begs. Eijirou and he were the type of people to barely make passing grades, and they, on more than one occasion, had to attend a couple supplementary lessons after school.

Shouto exhales loudly through his nose. "Do you feel attraction to that person?"

Eijirou visibly stiffens at his probing. Is Shouto being too pushy with them? They by no means have any obligations to answer his questions, and Shouto's aware that he's clueless on personal boundaries. Perhaps he overstepped one.

Denki begins rubbing his chin contemplatively. "Sounds to me like you're asking who we're crushing on."

Maybe he has. But before Shouto can apologize for doing something rude, Denki flashes him a wolfish grin.

"Because you know what? I totally love gossiping about this. So, how about we strike a deal?"

Blue and gray eyes narrow suspiciously, and suddenly, his business senses kick in. "What are the provisions of this negotiation?"

Denki holds his hands up protectively. "Woah, woah, woah, it's not like I'm asking you to exchange your life savings for this or anything. Just a fair trade, okay?"

Stiffly, Shouto nods his head. Denki lets out a loud whoop, and suddenly, Shouto wants to retract his earlier agreement.

"Alright! So, the deal is that I'll tell you who I'm crushing on if you tell me yours," Denki proposes. It is certainly fair, because both sides gain a piece of information, but something wedges inside Shouto's heart that makes every beat painful.

If other scientists risked working amidst a lab full of dangerous chemicals and conducted dangerous, mind-breaking studies on themselves for the sake of science, he can ignore a little ache from his traitorous heart.

Slowly, Shouto murmurs, "Fine."

Denki turns to his silent friend. "You in, Eijirou?"

"…Nah, I'm good," Eijirou declines. He wouldn't look either male in the eye as he gives his answer, turning his back towards them. "I'll just like, plug my ears or something so I don't hear."

The blonde purses his lips pensively before shrugging his shoulders. "'Kay. Suit yourself."

Warily, Shouto eyes the sullen male, suddenly reminded that not all love is exciting and that not everyone wants to discover the depths of their emotion. However, unlike the red-haired boy who is covering his ears behind Denki's back, the gamer is practically bouncing in his seat.

"Kyouka Jirou," he answers confidently, as if he's used to telling this to everyone. Shouto admires his daringness. Denki doesn't even give the other boy time to gather his bearings. "What about you?"

Shouto frowns. "I haven't confirmed it myself, but…"

"Yada, yada, yada—you don't love with your head but your heart, my man," Denki interjects, pointing to the left side of his chest with a thumb. "'Little by little the door to love opens. True love is packed with thrills~'"

"A song?" Shouto asks, quirking an eyebrow up. Denki's cheeks flush red.

"Hey, Ouran High School Host Club is a good anime, okay?"

Shouto has never heard of it, so he believes the blonde's words.

Denki crosses his arms and huffs. "Anyways, quit stalling! Just tell me already."

Right, he should just get this over with. Rip the bandage cleanly off. It's not like he is telling Denki a secret that can potentially destroy his future or make him question his existence. This…this is merely a fleeting feeling that's a result of a hormonal imbalance deep within his brain. Liking, as Momo had put it, didn't necessarily equate to loving.

He takes a deep breath, counting down from 100 by 10's because Denki's patience is wearing thin, and whispers,

"Yaoyorozu... Mo... M-Momo."

So much for ripping the bandage **cleanly** off.

To his credit, Denki doesn't take notice of his blunder—and if he did, he makes no snide comment about it. No, the dual-colored-haired boy's person of interest is much too fascinating for the blonde to pay attention to anything else.

"Yaomomo?!" Denki practically screeches out. Shouto winces, shoving his hand over at the loudmouth's lips and frantically surveying the area. Luckily, it is a rather barren space, and no one other than the trio of teenaged males is there.

Eijirou does not budge from his spot on the ground.

"Yes. But there's no need for you to announce it for the entire world," Shouto hisses. Denki's laugh is muffled, and he shakes away from the other boy's hands.

"Dude, sorry. I just… Wow, you really have high standards, huh?"

Shouto frowns. He'd always equated high standards to his father. Enji is the type of man to fuss over every single little detail of things to a fault. If there is even one minute feature that's out of place, the man would have demanded for it to be replaced with a more adequate product of his liking.

Therefore, he takes offense to Denki insinuation.

"I don't have high standards," Shouto denies vehemently. He crosses his arms together to glower at the other boy. Denki nervously rubs the back of his head.

"It's not like that's supposed to be taken in a bad way or anything. Just that, well, come on, everyone's had a crush on Yaomomo at some point in their life," Denki tries to explain to ease the tension. It has the opposite effect: Shouto's glare is heated enough to melt him right there on the spot.

Eijirou snorts and finally turns around, hands nowhere even close to his ears. Shouto feels a smidge betrayed and angry at himself for failing to hold the red-haired teen accountable for going back on his promise.

"Not everyone," the rugged boy argues. Denki sputters.

"It's a matter of speech! Y'know, like those hype…hyper…hyperbowling?"

"Hyperbole," Shouto corrects. The blond snaps his fingers together.

"Right, that's it!"

Arms folded behind his head, Eijirou sits up and formally joins their conversation. "I don't really remember Yaomomo being all that popular with the guys…"

There is something unattainable about the Yaoyorozu's only daughter. Though she is certainly nice, sometimes she acted more like their mother than a potential romantic partner. Also, being ranked number one and possessing an air of high-class elegance scared away more than a few suitors. Guys at their school preferred approachable girls like Ochako or Itsuka.

Denki snorts. His hands come up to his chest. "Well, I mean, she's number one in class, but she's also number one in another area."

The blonde finds himself face down on the floor, mouth full of grass, courtesy of a singular push from Shouto. The latter isn't quite sure what possessed him to do so, but seeing Denki whimper pathetically makes him feel satisfied.

"That's so manly," Eijirou gapes. He pats Denki's head comfortingly. "Anyways, what made you like her in the first place?"

Somehow, the word 'like' doesn't even register in Shouto's mind. Just the opportunity to list out all of Momo's great qualities is enough to get his engine revved up, and soon enough, Shouto's spouting at a list of things he enjoys about a certain black-haired girl.

Denki and Eijirou don't have the heart to interrupt him when he goes well beyond the five-minute mark.

"—And, she's incredibly perceptive and understanding," Shouto finally finishes. For one reason or another, his throat is feeling rather parched. Had he really been talking that long? He glances over and notices the sympathetic looks that the other two teens send him. "…What?"

Eijirou is the first to put a hand on Shouto's shoulder. "Bro, that was totally manly of you. Not everyone has the courage to admit all that."

The Todoroki heir doesn't like where this is going.

Denki places his own hand on Shouto's other, unoccupied shoulder. "Dude, you have it worse than me, and I've known Jirou about five—no, ten times longer than you know Momo."

Shouto bristles and roughly swats them away. "I don't like her—"

"Uh-uh. No take backsies!" Denki retorts. The white-and-red-haired teen scowls.

"… **That** much."

"Yeah, and I'm a genius in Calculus," the blonde sarcastically replies. Eijirou blinks.

"Did you even pass our last midterm?"

Denki brings a finger to Eiirou's lips. "Hush, child. You're in the same sinking boat as I."

Meanwhile, the youngest Todoroki is battling with the emotional turmoil he's suddenly faced with. The experiment is, suffice to say, a success. (What was it even about again?) However, Shouto is not at all satisfied nor pleased with the results he receives.

He had severely underestimated the tricky feeling until it has wormed its way deep into the crevices of both his mind and heart. It is a parasite that will eventually break him down, so he needs to rid of it all before he becomes completely weakened by it.

Shouto fumbles. "What should I do about it?"

The pair exchange a look before shrugging their shoulders. Denki is the first to offer his opinion, "Well, what do **you** want to do about it?"

A teeny, tiny voice in the back of his head warns him about taking romantic advice from boys with the same amount of experience as him (which is less than or equal to nil), but then again, Shouto isn't prone to listening to tiny voices, showcased by his audacity to follow a suspicious rope that lead him to his current predicament.

"I don't know," Shouto confesses. He used to be able to count the amount of times he's been truly stumped throughout his eighteen years of existence on one hand.

Once, when his economics tutor explained to him that all the theories Shouto's devoted himself to learning don't necessarily translate well into practice.

Twice, when his English tutor tried explaining the rules of adjective order when preceding a noun.

Thrice, when his mother gave him a cryptic letter that contained an ambiguous request to find a man he knew next to nothing about.

Now, it seems that love has added much more than he can keep track of with his mere phalanges.

The group falls silent as the answer remains uncaptured, floating around somewhere. Odd how Shouto has grown to rely on others for help instead of quietly bearing the burden by himself. It's even more mystifying when he has the fortitude to ask Denki what he's done about his little crush on Kyouka.

"Me?" the blonde gasps. Shouto is throwing curve balls left and right today. "Nothing yet. I'm a pretty secretive guy, you know."

Eijirou is not the type of boy to rain on others' parade, so if Denki believes that his crush is unknown to others in class 3-A—no, their entire year—then Eijirou will continue to let his friend delude himself.

Shouto furrows his eyebrows together.

"Why not?"

Inaction breeds complacency, allowing doubt and fear to take over where confidence and courage should be instead. That is another principle Enji has beaten into him, and begrudgingly, is one motto that Shouto holds himself to.

For a moment, Denki is silent.

For a moment, Shouto is afraid that he has offended him with his lack of tact.

That is, until the blonde gamer opens his mouth and starts singing, "Don't let yourself be brokenhearted, from here on out I will be watching over you."

When asked what creative medium he prefers, Shouto will undoubtedly answer poetry. But even he has to acknowledge that song lyrics have their flash of brilliance, where melody matches meaning and adds a layer of complexity that words on paper cannot.

"Isn't that Sachi's song from Sword Art Online…?" Eijirou wonders. He's seen Denki's playlist, and it's filled to the brim with video game music and anime songs.

"Just cause it's from a mainstream show doesn't make it lesser," Denki counters. Eijirou doesn't retaliate because he doesn't criticize others' tastes in music and definitely isn't the kind of person to put them down for it. "Anyways, I don't think I'll ever tell her about my feelings."

"Why don't you?" Shouto asks, elbows propped on his knees as he rests his head in his hands. Denki shifts his gaze up to the skies above.

"Have you ever watched Sword Art?"

The sheltered boy answers, "No."

Denki lets out an exasperated chuckle. "Figures. Anyways, let's just say that the person singing this song doesn't end up with the main character."

"Doesn't she d—" Eijirou attempts to comment, but Denki quickly brings his hands to cover his friend's mouth.

"SHHHHH! Spoilers dude!"

Eijirou breaks free from Denki's hold, eyeing Shouto warily before shaking his head. "Right, sure, whatever."

"So like Paris in _Romeo and Juliet_ ," Shouto deduces. Unfamiliar with the English tragedy, Denki just nods his head, trying not to seem like an uncultured fool.

"Yeah, yeah! I mean, you know what Kyouka wants to do, right? But you probably don't know that she's a killer on the bass, and she's going to go places. Picture it now: Kyouka Jirou, the worldwide sensation! And because she always has her earphones with her, her nickname in the music world would be 'Earphone Jack'!"

Now it's Denki's turn to drown in his pool of affection for the short, purple-haired girl with a prickly attitude to boot. He brings his arm up, hands reaching out to the blue skies above for something distant and elusive.

"…And me? I'll probably just be a deadbeat working at my folks' place. She'd be better off dating a music producer or someone more impressive," Denki quietly mutters. Shouto thinks that the blonde is severely underestimating himself, but he's also read somewhere that long-distance relationships have a lower chance of success, so if Denki's plan is to stay in Kannami while Kyouka's is to leave, then perhaps he shouldn't be encouraging a doomed pursuit.

"You've put a lot of thought into this, bro," Eijirou murmurs. For someone as easy-going as Denki, it is rare to see him so solemn and serious. The blonde rubs his nose sheepishly.

Shouto agrees. "Surprisingly so for someone who has failing grades."

"Can't you let me have this moment?" Denki whines. It makes the Todoroki heir feel regretful for his words.

"Sorry…"

The white-and-red-haired pretty boy is frustratingly sincere at times.

A sudden ring interrupts their heart-to-heart. Denki looks at the text message that pops up on his cellphone's screen and unleashes a flurry of curses that would have put Katsuki to shame. "I gotta go. My mom's _pissed_ that I'm not home yet."

"Bro, being flaky isn't manly," Eijirou reprimands. He gestures over to the bundled flowers that they have yet to deliver. Denki clasps his hands together and bows apologetically.

"I know, dude, I'm sorry! I'll make it up to you tomorrow night, I swear!" Denki wails remorsefully before scampering off to the direction of his house to beg for forgiveness. His mom had wanted him to record the finale of her drama, and he had failed her. He can only hope that his death is quick and painless.

Shouto and Eijirou watch the blonde leave. After a few seconds, Eijirou turns to Shouto. "Sorry about eavesdropping. That…wasn't very manly of me at all."

"…I don't think you're the type of guy to take advantage of people, so you must have your reasons not to tell me," Shouto concludes. Eijirou stays silent until a grateful grin works its way onto his face. The boy's smiles are pure and are akin to the sun's rays.

"Yeah, thanks," Eijirou says. Shouto thinks that it's about time he lets Eijirou go to make his deliveries because he's taken up too much of Denki's and his time, but the red-haired boy surprises him by adding, "Can I ask you a question this time?"

It's only fair, so Shouto complies to do the simple request.

Eijirou releases a shaky breath. From his point of view, Shouto has proven himself to be a man of a few words but infinite knowledge (at least, in comparison to his friend group minus Katsuki, but he can't rely on the volatile blonde on this matter). And, because he's from the city, he's bound to have met more people than Eijirou.

"Is it weird to like a guy?" the red-haired male hesitantly inquires. When Shouto doesn't answer right away, Eijirou quickly adds, "Asking for a friend."

Shouto purses his lips together. "I've read somewhere that the chemical phenylethylamine is released when you're attracted to someone. It's a releasing agent of norepinephrine and dopamine."

"…You lost me," Eijirou blankly admits. Shouto gives him a warm smile that immediately fills the other boy with relief.

"Chemicals don't discriminate based on gender," the half-half teen conveys in simpler terms. "I won't discriminate your friend based on their sexuality, either."

It's near impossible to doubt Shouto when his words are brimming full of veracity. Thus, Eijirou finds himself trusting a boy he's hardly known with a secret he hasn't told others that he's been acquainted with for longer.

"Okay, the friend is actually…me," he meekly discloses. He feels guilty for having lied to his conversation partner two times in a row, but Shouto doesn't mind. In fact, the aloof boy seems understanding. "It's not weird or disgusting, is it?"

"There are over twenty-five countries that allow for same-sex marriage," Shouto asserts. He folds his hands together. "Whether or not an individual considers their union negatively, fact of the matter is that governments acknowledge the existence of homosexual relationships and approve of their existence."

Eijirou is wide-eyed at this revelation. All his life, he's been raised in an environment where only heterosexual couples exist, and after reading some comments and articles online about liking people of the same gender, convinced himself that his attraction towards males is an oddity that should be kept quiet and unaddressed.

But here is a person who is accepting and reassuring him that any negative connotation he's internalized should be overturned.

"That's… Wow, I never knew," Eijirou reveals. It's been a struggle to accept that he may never feel the same attraction towards girls in the way that Denki is attracted to Kyouka or that Izuku is attracted to Ochako, but maybe now his struggle can finally be resolved. "Have you ever met one?"

Shouto nods his head. "Yes, my father's business partner from Germany. A very capable businessman."

Eijirou nervously swallows. "And he's not treated any differently because of…you know."

"Perhaps he is," Shouto admits. He'd be lying if he said he wasn't, but to what extent, Shouto doesn't know. Eijirou deflates upon hearing his answer, but the other teen continues, "His sexual orientation doesn't detract from his business sense. He's very capable at his job and well-respected internationally. What your preferences are shouldn't define your character, no matter what society or biased media tell you."

Silence overtakes the duo, and Shouto allows it to settle in. Coming to terms with something so monumental requires a lot of reflection and self-introspection. He knows he shouldn't rush Eijirou, so he doesn't.

Instead, the boy watches the sun dip below the horizon line and paint the sky a myriad of colors. Shouto is amazed at all the forms of trouble love can bring to a person and inwardly wonders if it is worth every single one, Mina's words ringing faintly in the back of his mind.

"…Shouto, you're a good person," Eijirou quietly whispers. Shouto blinks, because that's the second time he's heard it. "You're like, the best awkward pep-talker."

Was that a compliment? An insult? A little of both? Maybe he should learn to take that with stride.

"…Thanks?"

Eijirou laughs at the uncertainness in Shouto's voice. He's surprised that he can, when he feels both heavy and light simultaneously, but it's natural. This conversation is natural. His feelings are natural.

"What other fun fact do you have about homosexuality?" Eijirou jokingly asks. Shouto blinks before wracking his brain for one.

"It was known as shudo or nanshoku, where older men and younger men engaged in emotional relationships," Shouto recites. "It was practiced in samurai culture."

Eijirou's eyes practically sparkle. "Samurais? That's so manly!"

* * *

He gets home late that night, because he and Eijirou pass the time talking about samurais and feelings and acceptance, and sluggishly eats his dinner for the events of the day have him tuckered out. When Baba asks concernedly if he's sure that he should go out in his condition, Shouto still forces himself to trudge through the path up towards the Yaoyorozu's area to meet with Momo.

And, to keep bay the onslaught of feelings she evokes from him.

(He doesn't love her. He doesn't love her. He doesn't love her—If he repeats it enough times, he's convinced that the mantra will become a self-fulfilling prophecy.)

He catches her just when she's folding the checkered blanket.

"Ah…"

Shouto whispers out a quick but wholehearted apology for his tardiness. Momo answers with a non-confrontational smile, where she won't ask why he's late or what's the reasoning for his exhaustion. Instead, she just unfolds the blanket, smooths it over the grass, finds a comfortable seating position, and opens the book on her lap.

The boy takes in the sight, her form the picturesque embodiment of patience, and plops himself down onto the earth and leans his head against the metal railing, closing his eyes to better relax and take in her words as she reads sentence after sentence of her father's first love story.

She takes this as a signal to begin their session.

"'Our first, real conversation opened a new world, like waking up to the first fall of snow.'"

The time they spent as friends, as companions, had been short. He was in his third year of middle school, in the same class as Fubuki (assuming that 'her younger brother' referred to the capricious old coot), and she was in her third year of high school. While she was worrying over college exams, he was worrying about closing the distance between them.

It's on her last year, on the last Valentine's before she was to graduate, that Nobuyuki received the cookies from her. The gift was unconventional to say the least, and poor Nobuyuki was thoroughly confused on what it meant. But, he treasured it nonetheless, and the box found in his study is a testament to his everlasting devotion.

The segment ends with Setsumi leaving Kannami.

"So, she did leave," Shouto comments once Momo closes the book. The story of his mother and father's meeting is a mystery to him because he never bothered to ask. Not until now, at this very moment when he's met with the cliffhanger of a story that he should know more about.

Momo tilts her head. "Considering your father has no ties to Kannami, shouldn't that have been a given?"

That is certainly a logical conclusion, and Shouto nearly beats himself up for failing to see it himself. He blames his enervation.

"Your father's tenacity is admirable," Shouto compliments. Had it been him, he most definitely would have moved on instead of holding onto the small things. Momo shakes her head with a tiny laugh, not meant to make fun of Shouto but more as a way to ease her own nerves.

"First loves are always…" Momo begins. Her eyes glaze over a bit, contemplatively bites her lip, and finishes with, "Special. Unforgettable, more so."

It's like someone took a pack of tiny needles and stabbed his heart with them, because it's such a tiny little thing that causes more discomfort than pain. He doesn't enjoy this part of liking someone. Or anything about this, really.

Momo quirks her lips. "Then again, it's not something the great Shouto Yukimura is familiar with yet, is it?"

He knows she's saying it without any malicious content, a little jab at his stubbornness against falling in love, but now that he's grown conscious of her, he can no longer feel amusement or annoyance, just a stinging sensation of bleakness.

"You're right," he says after a lengthy pause so he doesn't arouse any suspicion. It works, because she giggles and brushes her bangs out of her face. Shouto has to look away so he doesn't become entranced with her face.

Although she doesn't verbalize the question, he knows it's there, so he begins to address the elephant in the room.

"I was with Kaminari and Kirishima earlier," he starts off slowly. Momo's mouth flies open to form a small 'o', and she brings a hand to cover it. "We…talked."

"That's unexpected," Momo straightforwardly says. Shouto gives her a small smile, and she coughs to hide her embarrassment over saying something so rude aloud. "Not that it's wrong for you to. Those two seem to be the opposite of what you're comfortable with."

It's funny how she already knows him better 80% of the people in his life.

"Yeah, they aren't. But it was nice." He curses his inability to use other adjectives to describe happy things. Thirteen years of warped abused tend to put limitations on properly articulating his feelings and thoughts.

Yet, Momo seems to understand the weight of 'nice', seems to understand a lot of things about him actually. Frighteningly so, and he's afraid that if she looks too much at him, his feelings-that-go-past-platonic-but-definitely-aren't-love will be discovered.

Fear is unknown to Shouto Todoroki, but here it is, shaking and squeezing his heart uninvited over the prospect of her reaction.

She pensively suggests, "You should come to the test of courage tomorrow night. Though we'll have to double the reading the next night after, I think it'll be more beneficial to deepen your friendships with the others." Momo shyly peeks up at him, batting her long lashes together. "Is that all right?"

The invitation is abrupt, but what's even more abrupt is how quickly he agrees.

Her eyes twinkle brighter than Cygnus. "Wonderful! The event shall take place in the outskirts towards the forest and shall be chaperoned by some teachers, though everyone will meet up at the school first."

Suddenly, a wave of doubt washes over him. "Is it okay for me to come?"

"Why wouldn't it be?" Momo asks, genuinely concerned. Was there anyone, bar Katsuki and Minoru, that makes the dual-haired boy uncomfortable? She didn't want to force him into attending an event that causes him unease out of obligation.

Hands grip onto the bars of the fence tightly. "It's a class event, isn't it? Wouldn't I be intruding?"

"It's fine. You have no need to be worry. Although it's school-sponsored, it's not very restrictive on the participants," Momo reassures gently. "You're more than welcome to come, Shouto-san."

Welcome— **he** is **welcomed**.

His grasp on the metal loosens and flies off when he feels her finger brushing against his knuckle. Momo holds a ladybug on her forefinger, dumbly looking at him after his wild reaction to physical contact.

"I'm—Oh, I apologize. But there was a ladybug—"

Her words don't register. His ears are ringing. His skin felt hot. Although her fingers were cooled by the summer night, her touch had burned him, leaving a searing sensation that spread across his body like a wildfire.

"I—I should go," Shouto hastily declares. He practically staggers down the road, shakily holding onto the rope as he kicks himself mentally for being so damn clumsy and ungraceful. Why was he feeling so bashful over something so simple as an accidental touch?

The questions are drowned out by the sound of his heart hammering loudly against his rib cage.

(The flower has bloomed, and Shouto despises how beautiful it appears.)

Momo watches his hurried escape with pursed lips, until her attention is diverted to the ladybug on her finger. A symbol of lady-luck. She watches it fly away, quietly thinks of a wish, and begins to fold the blanket to head back inside.

A small flush is on her cheeks, and the pad of her forefinger still tingling.

* * *

 _Author's Notes:  
_

 _I am so excited for todomomo week y'all have no idea._


End file.
